Till Kingdom Comes
by ThorneofAcre
Summary: An unfortunate misunderstanding leaves a young d'Artagnan in the care of Athos, Porthos and Aramis. But for things to work out, he must overcome his distrust and learn to accept friendship again. Modern AU with a teenaged d'Artagnan and lawyers Musketeers. Feedback is appreciated. Look inside for warnings and Disclaimer.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Greetings all. This is a modern AU which has been going around in my head ever since I saw the first episode. d'Artagnan is 15, the three musketeers are lawyers and Aramis and Porthos are in a relationship. Updates will be fairly regular as I have a major part of the story written. Feedback is welcome.  
**Warnings**: There is swearing, violence, mention of physical and sexual abuse (none of the main characters for the latter).  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own the Musketeers.

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It had been a shitty day.

One of Athos's prime witnesses had lost credibility when she had admitted to being in love with the serial rapist that Athos had been trying to put behind bars and a week's worth of solid work had gone down the drain. Then Athos had spent a whole hour in Treville's office getting chewed out about the fiasco which the court hearing had turned into. Thank god the presiding judge had been considerate and given him more time to prepare otherwise that filthy excuse of a man, Rooger, would have walked free.

He had no idea what to do next. He supposed he would be visiting the victim again, asking her about _that_ night. That was not something he was looking forward to.

He had every intention of going home and drinking himself into oblivion. Or if that didn't work, he decided would consider shooting himself.

Athos was walking to his car parked down the street, lost in his thoughts and did not see the young man until he had walked right into him. His hands shot out to stop the other man from falling and he grabbed him by the arms.

"What do you think you are doing?" the man demanded. "Let go!"

Athos was about to let go, explain that it had been a mistake and that he was sorry but the other man pushed at him, hard. Athos was so surprised that a thin guy like him had had that kind of strength that he did not see the punch coming until it hit him right in the jaw.

His head snapped back from the impact and rubbing his jaw with one hand Athos tried to explain, "Stop, I didn't – "

But the man wasn't listening, another hand flailed out and Athos ducked out of the way, his instincts taking over. He crouched low, anticipating his assailant's next blow and jabbed him with a straight palm in the ribs when he raised his arm. The man doubled over and Athos followed it with a kick to the knee and an elbow to his face.

The man went down, and did not move. Athos stood over the fallen body of his attacker, breathing heavily.

It took some time for the frantic beating of his heart to stop and the adrenaline pumping in his system to settle down. Athos came to his senses gradually, noticing first that his jaw barely hurt from the punch and second, the body at his feet.

He gasped and crouched beside the man to check for a pulse, letting out a sigh of relief on finding one. He turned him over to check how badly he had hurt him and looked at the young face in horror.

His 'attacker' was barely a teenager, fourteen or fifteen at best. There was a faded bruise around his eye and his nose was completely covered in blood, which had dribbled over his cheek and was dripping on the asphalt.

Athos swore. What was wrong with him? He had attacked a kid as if he was some deranged murderer about to kill him. He did not know what other damage he had done and fumbling for his phone, he hit speed dial one.

Aramis had not been happy at being called on his way home and asked to turn back and drive to the office. But the frantic edge in Athos's tone had told him that it would be best if he kept his displeasure to himself.

He did not have any such qualms when on pulling up to where he had said he would be waiting, he saw Athos cradling a prone boy's head in his lap. A boy who looked like he had gone three rounds against a bulldozer and lost. He took in the pale color, the blood covering his face, the ragged breathing and Athos's guilt stricken look and could figure out of what had happened.

"Athos, _what were you thinking?" _

Athos looked up, equal parts relieved and guilty, at the approaching man. "Aramis, you have to help him. I don't know what came over me. He attacked and I just…"

"You just what? Thought it would be a good idea to beat up a _kid_?" Aramis couldn't soften the harsh edge in his voice as he knelt to take in the damage, not noticing the wince on the other man's face. There was bruising on the chest and ribs, though some of it looked too old for it to have been caused by Athos. Aramis checked his hands and legs and except for an angry red bruise on the knee he did not find anything else.

Aramis sighed. Judging from the battered clothes the boy was probably some homeless junkie who had come at Athos and it really wasn't the other man's fault his instincts were as finely tuned as they were. Several years in the army made overriding the instinct to fight or flee difficult for any man. And in all the years Aramis had fought alongside Athos on the battlefield, he had never known the man to flee.

Still, the kid needed caring for and Aramis knew his friend wouldn't leave him lying around in such a state on the street. He, himself wasn't a huge fan of the idea either.

"Come on, it looks worse than it actually is." Aramis said, nudging Athos who was staring at the boy's bloodied face with a horrified expression. "Let's get him home and get him cleaned up."

Athos nodded mutely, and stood up, tenderly lifting the boy with an arm under his shoulders and another under the knee, wincing at the moan which escaped the lad's lips when the bruised knee was jostled, and carrying him bridal fashion to Aramis's car. Aramis followed, getting into the driver's seat while Athos carefully settled in the back with the body of the unconscious boy for the short ride home.

Home was a two storey villa with too many rooms for them to use, in one of the more expensive areas of Paris that Athos shared with Aramis and his boyfriend Porthos. He could very well afford to live by himself and give the couple some much deserved privacy but they wouldn't hear of him getting his own place.

They were of the opinion that he would drown himself in alcohol or starve himself to death if left unchecked. Athos wasn't wholly convinced that they were wrong so he hadn't pressed the issue, though he did bring it up from time to time when he felt especially guilty of imposing on his friends. They did the same thing every time he did: smack him on the head and guilt him into ordering pizza.

Aramis left the task of carrying the boy who had remained unconscious for the duration of the trip, up the steps and into the house while he rushed in first to get things ready. By the time Athos arrived, with the lanky body in his arms – the boy barely weighed anything at all – Aramis had taken out his version of a first aid box which had everything from insulin injections – despite none of them being diabetic – to an intubation tube.

Aramis said he liked to be prepared, Porthos said he was paranoid. After that Athos tended to tune out the conversations because it usually turned to thinly veiled innuendos followed by intense snogging.

He loved his friends, but there were somethings a man did not need to know about his best mates.

"In there," Porthos told him, glancing at the young boy in Athos's arms and indicating towards the guest bedroom, without preamble. Aramis must have filled him in to what happened. Or not.

Athos had never met a man who could appear to be as unfazed with surprising things as Porthos. He remembered the memorable time when Porthos had not batted an eyelid when the helicopter which had been supposed to carry them out of the danger zone had been blown up to shards by rebels, as they had gotten near, and left them stranded in the middle of the most dangerous conflict zone in all of Afghanistan. Porthos had simply nodded and started taking down the rebels one by one. They had made it out themselves after several days of hiding, defending themselves against the rebels and living off the land.

Athos walked into the guest bedroom, the only one empty downstairs, and found Aramis taking out bandages from his kit. He lay the boy down gently on the bed, and stepped back letting the ex-army medic work his magic. Aramis did not say anything further and worked silently, cleaning off the blood from the man's face and bandaging his ribs. He glanced up to find Athos staring at the boy's face, which looked even younger in the light of the room, with a haunted look in his eye. "Athos."

Athos was wrenched out of his thoughts by his name being spoken.

"Go to the bathroom. Get cleaned up. And go eat something," Aramis sad, talking softly, making sure he understood. "I have things under control here, and this might take time."

Athos nodded mutely, glad for the distraction and went out to the main hall which served as a living area with a kitchen tucked in a corner. There was a dining table but the trio never used it for eating, most of their meals taking pace on the go, and it was covered with papers and files from their cases. They had, however opted for getting several large couches surrounding a large coffee table, and a flat screen and surround system which was, in Athos' opinion a little too big for the room.

Porthos was in the kitchen stirring something in a pot. He quietly filled a glass with water from the tap and handed it to Athos, who sat down at one of the stools with it.

"So," Porthos said. Athos looked at him, waiting for him to continue. When it became apparent that he wasn't actually going to ask anything, Athos shrugged and looked away.

"God, I'm sorry." Athos rubbed his eyes, his shoulders slumping, all the anxiety of the day catching up to him. "I just… reacted, I guess."

Porthos nodded and turned around to fill a bowl with the stew he was cooking and placing it in front of Athos. "Not me you have to apologize to," he said, taking bowl for himself and sitting on the stool beside Athos.

They sat quietly for some time. "I get it though," Porthos said finally, as if he had never stopped. "I believe I would have reacted in much a similar fashion if someone had come at me."

Athos looked at him, not believing him for a second. "Alright," Porthos conceded after a short staring match, scowling. "Maybe I wouldn't have. But that doesn't change the fact that the reaction was understandable."

"He's just a boy," Athos whispered, brokenly. He had unleashed all his anger at a poor defenseless _kid_ who did not deserve it. There was nothing understandable about that.

Porthos nodded, acknowledging his point but was prevented from saying anything by Aramis who walked out of the room. Athos looked at him, the question evident.

"He's fine. There was some bruising, more from some previous incident than his run in with you I think." Aramis too took a seat and snagged Porthos's bowl. "I've bandaged him up and set him up with some glucose bags. Poor kid looks like he hasn't had a decent meal in ages, what with his bones jutting out and his paleness."

"He is going to be okay?" Athos asked visibly relaxing when Aramis nodded.

"Yes, he should be fine after a few days of resting his knee. It isn't fractured but the bruising suggests that it will hurt like a bitch." Aramis took in the contrite look on Athos's face and continued, "other than that, he'll be okay."

"That's good," Porthos said, nodding his head. "The lad will be fine, but you look like you are going to fall over any minute now. Go get a bath or something, and catch some sleep."

Aramis nodded. "Go ahead, we'll clean up and take first watch over the kid."

Athos shot his friends a grateful look and stumbled to his own room. He did not have the energy to do much other than peel off is clothes and stand under the shower for ten minutes before putting on some pajamas and getting into bed.

He thought about tomorrow, and the boy waking up. There was no way Treville was going to let him take the day off: the DA had enough on his plate without his best attorney calling in sick. Aramis too would have to go to work, the Rooger case was driving everyone up the wall, and after today's disaster they needed all hands on deck. Porthos however could be cut some slack. He had just won his own case after working it continuously for three months and deserved some downtime. He could be there to watch over the kid and be there when he woke up.

Athos thanked whoever was up there for giving him friends such as these two and drifted off to a restless sleep full of innocent eyes staring at him accusingly out of young bloody faces.

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Feedback is always appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

D'Artagnan woke up in a soft bed in a clean room with sunlight streaming in from the blinds and thought that he had finally died and this was what heaven looked like.

Then he felt the pain. _Everything_ hurt.

His brought a hesitant arm to his ribs, feeling them bandaged through the clean shirt he was wearing and then to his face, feeling his nose and wincing when it throbbed painfully. He tried to sit up and gasped as a wave of hot agony shot through his leg. He looked at his knee, which had been bandaged as well, and grimaced. He probably wouldn't be able to fight his way out of wherever the hell that sick bastard who had grabbed him had taken him to.

He tried to squash the wave of panic that tried to override any logical thinking. He was in an unknown house, with a man who could beat him to a bloody pulp and had almost done so, before bringing him to his house and dressing up his wounds like some sicko with a powerplay kink. D'Artagnan had met the kind before, he did not have any desire of becoming someone's _boy toy_, as that truck driver had suggested sneeringly.

An involuntary shudder made its way up to his spine at the memory of the close encounter. He closed his eyes and focused on the pain.

The pain was good, it was grounding.

He grit his teeth and swung his legs over the bed, stifling the gasp that threatened to escape. D'Artagnan couldn't hear any noises, maybe the man was sleeping. Maybe he had thought d'Artagnan would remain unconscious and had gone out. Maybe d'Artagnan could escape without running into him.

Or he could find a phone and call the police… though the last time he had tried that, the policemen who had arrived had beaten him up for wasting their time.

D'Artagnan limped over to the door and breathed in relief to find it unlocked. He opened it cautiously peering out into an empty hall. There were other doors in what looked to be a large house but they were all closed. D'Artagnan spied a door across the hall which looked like the way out and started to hobble towards it. He was almost halfway through when one of the doors opened and the same man from last night walked out in his pajamas sleepily.

Athos froze at the sight of the young boy who had stopped in the middle of the hall, clearly on his way out and who was currently staring at him with a scared but defiant expression.

Athos was at a loss.

He was trained to handle bombs packed with C4 which could blow him up to smithereens if the wrong wire was cut, he was trained to think and make plans while surrounded by fire from four sides, he was even trained to outthink his opponent in a court room debate; but he couldn't, for the life of him think of what to do with a frightened boy who was looking at him like as if he was going to eat him alive.

He raised both his hands up and took a step forwards. The boy took a step back, causing Athos to frown. He really should not be walking around on that knee. Athos took a deep breath and calmed his pounding heart.  
"Look kid – "

"Don't call me that." The voice did not betray any of the signs of fear that Athos could read in the tense lines of the kid's body.

"Alright, what's your name?" Athos tried again, his tone placating.

The boy just looked at him for a minute before sighing. "Look mister, I don't know who you are but I can tell you what you are thinking is _not_ going to happen." He folded his hands and tried to stand straight to appear as imposing as he could. "If you try to force yourself upon me, I'll fight you. Judging from what you did last night, I know it won't end well for me, but I have nothing to lose, do I?"

Athos felt like as if he had been gutted. He took a sharp breath at the kid's words and the underlying determination in his tone. He had thought that Athos was going to_… oh God!_

Athos started walking slowly, but not towards the boy who still tried to move away and keep the distance between them, but towards the door. He went and opened it, letting the chilly morning air in, and stood back. "Look kid, I have no intention of harming you." He winced at the disbelieving look on the young man's face, "what happened last night was a mistake. You attacked and my instincts took over and for that I am very _very_ sorry."

Athos gestured towards the open door. "You can leave if you want. The door's open, I won't stop you." He walked away towards a sideboard. He slowly put down the phone he had been holding on the sideboard, the boy following his movements with his eyes, never turning his back on him. "Here's a phone, you can call someone to come pick you up. But please, I don't want to hurt you, and I have no intention of…-" Athos's voice broke and his face blanched at the thought, "- of _anything_ at all."

D'Artagnan looked at the man and considered his options. The phone was too close to where he was standing, so it wasn't really a viable one. The door however… If he made a run for it, d'Artagnan supposed he could get out. He studied the man's body language carefully. He did genuinely look sorry and his disgust had been apparent when d'Artagnan had warned him away.

But time on the streets had taught him not to trust any man's word. He took a step towards the door just to check if the man was going to make any movement to stop him, and when the man sat down on the sofa instead, he started walking rapidly.

His knee was killing him, hot waves of pain shooting through his body with each jagged step but he kept on walking. He was almost there when he hit his leg on a small side table and he stumbled landing on that same blasted knee. The scream shot out from his mouth despite his best attempts to stifle it and tears flooded his eyes as he tried to breathe through the _pain_.

Athos had watched the boy's determined walk with a sinking realization that nothing he could say was going to convince the poor kid that he meant him no harm. God only knew what horrors he had been through to be so jaded at such a young age. And what he had suggested… Athos didn't want to think about what sick bastard the kid had encountered to make _that_ the first thing to come to his mind. He had told himself that it really would do more harm than good if he tried to force the boy to stay and sit down to get off his injured leg.

Then the boy had hit his leg against the table and came crashing down with a heart breaking scream wrenching through his gritted teeth.

Athos was by his side in an instance, the noise bringing out Aramis and Porthos downstairs.

"What happened?" Aramis asked, on full alert, taking in the scene in front of him. He started making his way to where the young man that he had bandaged and looked after the previous night, was supporting himself on his palms, and one knee, tears streaming down his face as he tried his best to get up despite his obvious pain.

Athos however reached him first, trying to grab his arm to slip it over his shoulder and help the boy up without any of his weight falling on the injured leg, but the boy used one hand to push him away feebly. He turned to glare at him, and Athos froze at the panicked haunted look in the boy's eyes. He raised his hands in the air again, and spoke softly but urgently. "Please, I'm not going to hurt you, but you'll hurt yourself if you don't get off that knee right now."

The boy continued to glare at him for a moment before a helpless look passed over his face. He nodded sharply, too much in pain to speak and Athos was by his side in an instant not giving him the chance to rethink his choice. He quickly pulled one arm over his own shoulders, and slipped another around his thin waist, turning him so that he was making his way to the couch. He walked the boy, carrying most of his weight, over to the couch and set him down carefully.

Taking two steps back, he knelt in front of him and gestured for Aramis to come over. "Aramis here is a doctor, he was the one who bandaged you up last night. Would you let him look at your knee?" he asked.

The boy studied him for a minute the expression in his face unreadable before glancing at Aramis and nodding. Athos let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. "Good."

Aramis walked over slowly and sat on a stool in front of the couch, each movement deliberate so as to not spook the boy. "Hello, my name is Aramis." Aramis said, talking like as if this was quite a normal situation and the young man wasn't studying him warily, ready to run at a moment's notice. Or try to anyway, Aramis doubted he would get very far on that leg.

"And I'm not like my friend Athos here said, a doctor. I trained to be a medic in the army though. Patched these two here up too many times to count in the army. Still do actually. I'm the one they come running to when they need their hands held and their tears wiped."

The boy had been listening with a frown on his face, looking as confused as Athos felt. Aramis never rambled. Then a small smile broke out on his face and Athos was surprised once again at how young he looked. His hair were long and fell over his dark eyes, he was a little on the pale side, and there were circles around his eyes, but that still did not diminish the youthfulness and _innocence_ that the smile radiated.

An innocence which reminded Athos with a sharp pang of another young man, a boy really, whose eyes had lost their sparkling shine far too early.

Aramis noticed the boy warming up to him and continued talking while opening the bandage on his knee, having rolled up his trousers. "And you would imagine the number of times two grown men get into scrapes which need patching up to be far and few in between but oh how wrong would you be. It's every second day that I am getting a phone call and I drive over to find one of them beaten up, lying in their own blood, or in Athos's case drunk on his ass out on the streets, and it falls upon my poor shoulders to carry them back."

"Oy! Don't you go around filling the lad's head with lies." Porthos called out, moving towards the kitchen to fix them breakfast. "He is as bad as us, kid. The number of times he has to be rescued from some gal who has fallen all over his pretty face, it would be funny if it weren't so sad."

"Ha! You're just jealous I get all the attention," Aramis shot back, satisfied that the fall hadn't done more damage after some poking and prodding.

The boy actually grinned at the gruff tone, and Athos couldn't help himself. "What's your name, kid?" he winced mentally as soon as the question was past his lips, expecting another rebuke on calling him kid, but was surprised when none came. The boy looked at him for a moment and the other two men became silent.

"D'Artagnan." The whispered answer came a heartbeat later and Athos smiled.

'D'Artagnan, my name is Athos. This is Aramis and that's Porthos," he gestured to each of his friends. At a loss for what to say next, he added, "we're lawyers at the DA's office."

D'Artagnan nodded in silence. "Right."

Aramis smiled at his lack of response. "So anytime you want a team of badass lawyers to do some ass kicking on your behalf, give us a call."

"Breakfast is served." Porthos laid down the plates with several sandwiches, pulled from the refrigerator and heated in the microwave on the coffee table and sat down. Athos got up and got out a carton of orange juice from the refrigerator along with four glasses. Each of them picked up a sandwich and Athos piled a plate high with a few of them and placed it in front of d'Artagnan. He sat back in his own seat after pouring each of them a glass of juice.

They all got busy with their food, pretending not to see how the young boy looked at his plate and then sneaked looks at each of them before picking up a sandwich and biting it tentatively. Then it was like a dam had broken and he wolfed down the entire thing so fast that Athos was slightly concerned he'll choke. He shook his head at Aramis who looked like he was about to comment. He didn't want the kid to feel self-conscious, this probably was the first time he had eaten anything solid in quite a while.

He needed to know what to do next though so once he noticed that after clearing away several sandwiches, d'Artagnan's pace had slowed down, he cleared his throat.

"You can lie down in that room over there, there is enough to eat in the fridge and the bathroom is just down the hall." He looked at d'Artagnan who had stopped eating and was studying his plate intently. "If you want to leave, we can drop you off wherever you want."

D'Artagnan looked up, torn between the promise of a clean bed, a functioning toilet and the mistrust which lingered about a strange place with strange people. The men seemed decent enough though, and besides this was the same man who had knocked him out for several hours with only a few blows. If he had wanted to hurt him, d'Artagnan was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to stop him. So there was nothing holding him back, yet he had made no move to harm him in any way.

And there were the two others. They seemed fine, if a little weird.

Aramis glared at Athos. "That isn't fair, mate." He looked at d'Artagnan. "Look, I'm sure wherever you need to be can wait. You are in no fit state to go anywhere. Once you've healed enough we can take you wherever you want to go."

Porthos nodded and Athos shot Aramis a grateful look. It was too soon to give him an ultimatum. He didn't trust them yet, he would probably try to run and then injure himself even more. Besides they didn't know what they wanted him to do. Athos wasn't sure why he felt the overwhelming urge to make the boy stay, but he wasn't questioning it right now.

Not when the bruising on the kid's face was beginning to color and he couldn't shift in his seat without wincing with pain.

A large part of it was guilt, he knew that. It wasn't everyday that he lost control like that after all. But some part inside him, a small part, wanted the boy to stay just _because_.

D'Artagnan looked relieved for a second before masking it behind a mask of curious indifference. "What do you guys want from me?"

If only Athos knew.

"Nothing," he told d'Artagnan. "But I am not about to let you walk out in the state you are in and hurt yourself further when your condition is my fault… - "

"I don't need your pity!" d'Artagnan looked offended.

"Look kid, it's not about pity." Athos tried to diffuse the situation. Where had that burst of pride come from? He thought homeless people jumped at the chance of getting the comfort of a house. "It's a matter of principle. Call it honor if you would, but whatever it is, it won't allow me to act so inconsiderately."

"What my not-so-eloquent friend here is trying to say is that he's an ass with a shitload of problems and you shouldn't take it too seriously," Aramis piped up, once again getting a small smile out of the kid. Athos didn't like the small flare of jealousy that flared up.

Why did _Aramis_ get that smile?

He scowled at the man who just chuckled. Porthos looked amusedly between the two. "Don't you guys have work to get to?" he asked, and both men in question simultaneously looked at their watches and stood up hurriedly.

They were late. Treville was going to have their heads if he had to go to the victim's house instead of them.

Athos gulped down the rest of his juice and hurriedly made his way to his room, "Make sure you tell Porthos where d'Art's meds are!" he called over his shoulder.

"Yeah, he already showed them to me last night." Porthos replied, reassuring him.

D'Artagnan simply lay his head back on the couch and watched them run about getting dressed and tucking files into their briefcases and finishing of their breakfast all at once. They kept reminding each other things that they would need for the day which made for a comic scene of one of them rushing to their room and coming back with an item of clothing in one hand and a file in the other and then saying something to the other who would return to their room and come back in a similar fashion. In a few minutes time though, both men were dressed and ready to go. Apparently the frantic routine was a common place occurrence judging by the casualty of Porthos's expression as he cleared away the breakfast plates.

"Aren't you going to go too?" d'Artagnan asked Porthos, who shook his head.

"I got a couple of days off," he said, setting a stool in front of the couch where d'Artagnan was sitting. "Just got over with a long drawn out case and I have earned some downtime."

D'Artagnan nodded at that. "So you three work together?"

Porthos nodded. "Yea, I've known… -" He was cut off by Aramis hollering for his car keys. "They are on the fridge love!" he called out. "Sorry, I was saying that I've known these guys since I was twelve."

Athos and Aramis had made it to the door and after yelling goodbye and one last reminder from Athos about the medicines, they were out of the door. It was suddenly quiet, with the two gone and d'Artagnan thought of something to say to fill the silence.

"So you studied together?" d'Artagnan asked. Porthos looked away for a second and d'Artagnan suddenly realized that he was prying. "I'm sorry I didn't mean too…"

"No, no it's okay." Porthos said. "They studied together. I on the other hand tried to steal Athos's father's wallet."

D'Artagnan looked at him, his eyes wide with surprised and Porthos couldn't help but laugh at the incredulous expression on the kid's face. "Yeah, he caught me with my hand literally in his pocket. Instead of turning me in to the police, he took me in. Got me to clean up my act and enrolled me in school with Athos. There I met Aramis who was Athos's best friend and since then we have been inseparable. We went to college together, then got our law degrees together. In a fit of patriotism we even enlisted in the army together and then decided not to sign up for a second tour. Now we work in the same office, though Athos and Aramis work a lot more closely with each other."

The story did not sound like a fabrication made up to earn d'Artagnan's trust. Though he wouldn't have believed a man as cultured as Porthos to have such a rough background, his story rang with honesty. "Athos's father must have been a good man."

"Oh that he was. I owe a great deal to him," Porthos did not hesitate in his answer. "His son too. Athos is the kindest and most honorable man I know, barring Aramis. He really does feel badly about what happened last night, you know."

D'Artagnan looked away, ashamed. He did not need to be reminded that he had had his ass handed to him quite thoroughly not twelve hours ago. Granted Athos had had a valid reason, he had after all attacked first, and Athos was a trained soldier and all that, but that did not stop d'Artagnan from feeling mortified.

If he hadn't overreacted in such a way, these men wouldn't have felt honor bound to offer him their home.

He tried to change the subject. "So how long have you and Aramis been more than friends?"

Porthos looked surprise and d'Artagnan snorted. "I am young, I am not an idiot. You came out of the bedroom together, you look at each other in a certain way and you did just call him love." He smirked at the infuriated look on the older man's face. "Was I not supposed to hear that?"

"You know, no one likes a smartass." Porthos grumbled, though there was no heat in his tone. "We've been together for a little less than four years now, a year after we left the army."

D'Artagnan nodded. He kept waiting to be asked questions about himself, but it seemed that Porthos really had lived on the streets once. Only someone who had been there knew not to ask about another man's plight.

After a while of talking about all the silly things that thee three of done had done together, Porthos remembered that it was time for d'Artagnan to take his medicines. D'Artagnan hesitated for a minute before reminding himself that the men had made to move to harm him in any way yet, and taking the offered pills.

The pain which had built up to a steady throb lessened slightly and he could feel his eyes drooping.

"Hey kid, don't sleep like that, you'll wake up very sore." Porthos's voice filtered through his sleep addled mind.

He 'hmm-ed' but made no move to get up. He felt strong arms pulling his to his feet, taking care not to cause any jerky movements and felt himself being led to the bedroom he had woken up in a few hours ago.

He didn't know anything after that except there was a blanket and a pillow, a _pillow!, _and he drifted off to sleep.

Porthos swept back the hair from the young lad's eyes and watched his face relax as he slept. He looked so painfully young, without the guarded mask hiding the innocence of his face in place. No doubt the kid had seen very bad days. He had that look in his eyes that Porthos was all too familiar with. Porthos just hoped he would take as much comfort from the arrangement as he can while getting better. Who knew, maybe he would decide he wanted to stay.

Porthos wouldn't mind that, it would be nice to have a new face around the place.

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As ever I would love to hear your thoughts. Reviews make me write faster, I swear. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Let me just say that the continued love for this story does not cease to amaze me. It is a rather different AU and I didn't expect the kind of support I am getting from you lovely people. I try to thank each one of you personally but then get sidetracked into writing more of the story instead. I am sure you would appreciate that too. This story has somewhat taken over my life, i'm writing it all the time now. That does not bode well for my oncoming exams... but then this is a lot more fun. :P

**Warning**: Mention of a minor OC being sexually abused and language.

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"Well, that was a nice and complete waste of time." Aramis commented as they made their way back to the parked car from Gloria Bennet's house. The twenty year old girl had barely answered a couple of their questions before the father had started ranting about how they were wasting their time harassing his daughter instead of getting the man responsible for her state. All of Athos's attempts at calming him down and Aramis's charm had fallen flat and the pissed off father had rather unceremoniously told them to leave.

Treville wasn't going to be happy.

But then the D.A rarely ever was. Athos couldn't remember the last time he had seen the man crack a smile. He perpetually worried about something or the other. It kind of made Athos have second thoughts about taking over the title once the older man stepped down or went on to become a judge.

He hoped that day was still a far way off. He had no desires of adding to his responsibilities just yet. He worked behind the scenes just fine.

"I get his frustration though." Athos replied, getting in the car. "Think about it. Had it been your child who had been raped and dumped on the streets, how would you feel?"

As soon as the question was out of his mouth the image of d'Artagnan's panicked face, warning him from _forcing himself on him_, flashed in Athos's mind and he winced.

Aramis saw his friend's grimace and could guess where his mind had taken him. Athos had told him about what had transpired this morning. He shuddered at the thought, thinking instead about what the kid would be doing now. Porthos had probably gotten him to take his meds and he must be sleeping.

"We can't kick him back out," Athos whispered, his eyes on the road.

Aramis shot his friend a surprised look. It wasn't like Athos to be so protective of anyone. "Yes, we don't want that. But we can't force him to stay against his will. Besides if there are people looking for him – "

"You know as well as I do that the kid has no one looking for him." Athos shook his head and glanced at Aramis. "You saw him. He has probably been living on the streets, and with the bruises and all, he isn't doing so well..."

Aramis nodded. D'Artagnan's body had been covered with faded bruises as if he had taken a beating not too long ago, and he had the too thin ragged look of the homeless. Besides the haunted staring was a dead giveaway. This was a boy who had seen far too much at too young an age.

"He looks barely fifteen. He wouldn't last another year on the streets," Athos said, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

"Look, let's just take it one day at a time. Let him see what kind of people we are. Earn his trust. Then when he is better and makes to leave, we can extend the offer for him to stay," Aramis said, taking in the tense lines of his friend's body. He had never seen anyone get under Athos' skin as d'Artagnan had done.

Athos nodded simply, and they drove in silence after that until they reached the office.

It was a very expectedly awful remainder of the day spent leafing through every single witness account and statement and turning every stone to find a lead later, that the two men were on their way home. Aramis had suggested they get food and Athos had chosen Chinese.

So it was with bags in hands and briefcases slung over their shoulders that the two men entered the house and stared at the scene in front of them.

D'Artagnan and Porthos sat on the couch in front of the telly, the former with his leg propped up with a cushion on a stool in front of him, each holding a joystick in hand and lost in Little big Planet.

d'Artagnan must have finished the level with more points than Porthos because he laughed as the score was shown on the screen while Porthos grumbled at him good naturedly, before noticing the two men in the doorway.

"Oh look!" Porthos said, getting d'Artagnan's attention, "Food!"

Athos rolled his eyes at the greeting while Aramis put down the bags and went over to give Porthos, who barely turned away from the next level they were starting, a kiss on the lips. "Come on, it's not going to remain hot forever."

"There are kids in the room!" Athos called out from the kitchen, where he was searching the cabinets for enough bowls and spoons for all of them.

"I was talking about the food, shithead!" Aramis replied sharing a quick grin with Porthos while d'Artagnan hid a smile.

Aramis had noticed the way the boy had visibly tensed on realizing that they were back, but he was glad that the kid had become at ease with Porthos. But then it really wasn't difficult to warm up to the bigger man. For all his gruff exterior, there lay an adorably friendly and loveable person underneath.

But then Aramis could be biased. When it came to Porthos, he rarely wasn't.

Athos came out of the kitchen with the contents of the bag poured out in several bowls and plates balanced on a large tray. He set it down on the table and looked at d'Artagnan.

"How are you feeling?"

D'Artagnan put away the controller and looked at the food for a long moment before answering, "Not very bad, I think." Athos rose an eyebrow for him to go on, "I still can't move my leg much without hurting it and I feel sore. But the pills helped with the pain and I was able to go to sleep for some time."

Aramis nodded, gesturing towards the food. "Good, that's good. Sleep will heal your injuries faster. And so will food, come on now, dig in."

D'Artagnan took a bowl and the offered chopsticks and started picking at his food. Athos looked at the paused game on the screen, "So I see you have been kicking Porthos' ass at this game."

Porthos groaned. "The lad got the whole damn thing almost immediately and I keep getting stuck. It's a little unfair."

D'Artagnan smiled into his bowl, head bowed. Athos grinned. "Well, in that case, I'm sorry we don't have any more games."

D'Artagnan looked curious but did not ask. Aramis however saw his look. "Most of the games today are quite violent and are too realistic for Athos' delicate tastes, this was the only one I could think of when I got him the PS which wouldn't make him uneasy."

"Sod off," Athos scowled. "You make me sound like some disturbed old man suffering from PTSD." He shook his head and shot d'Artagnan a look, "Those games are annoying because they aren't realistic enough, if anything. Why would I enjoy a stimulated battlefield when I have been to one that is far far worse than anything they can think of?"

"He has a point," Porthos agreed, nodding sagely. "Blowing things up in real life? So much more fun." Aramis and he shared a grin.

They ate in silence for a while before Porthos looked at his friends.

"Did you get a break in the Rooger case?" he asked, trying to pursue a lone noodle with his chopsticks before giving up and simply picking it up with his fingers.

Both Aramis and Athos had matching scowls on their face as they shook their heads. "At the rate the case is going, Rooger will have no trouble walking a free man. And after all he had done…"

"Mark Rooger?" d'Artagnan asked, all three men looking at him in surprise.

"Yea, you know of him?" Athos asked, his voice strained, not wanting to know the answer. _Why_ did d'Artagnan know a known rapist?

D'Artagnan looked sorry that he had spoken, but after a second replied, "Not really, but there is talk on the streets about an abandoned house that no one would go into… and I did one night."

There was a collective intake of breath. D'Artagnan could not meet any of the gazes of all three men who were staring at him and he kept his eyes on his hands.

"And?" Aramis prompted softly.

"And there wasn't anyone inside, but there were things hanging from the walls and pictures… so many pictures littering the place like trophies," d'Artagnan shuddered at the memory.

"Did anyone see you there?" Athos asked, quietly.

"No, no I got out, not wanting to stay in such a place. The boys told me later that it was Mark Rooger's place and that he killed anyone whom he saw in there."

There was silence as the three men absorbed this information. Then Athos took a deep breathe.

"D'Artagnan, can you tell us where this place is?" Athos asked. The boy looked at him, suddenly terrified.

"But you can't go there, he will see you and…" his eyes darted around the room frantically as if Rooger would somehow appear from one of the bedrooms and attack him.

Porthos laid a hand on d'Artagnan's arm, causing the boy to flinch for a second before calming down. "Kid, we have Rooger in custody. But the witnesses against him keep disappearing or changing their statements. We need some solid evidence and we need him fast if we are to put him away for a long, long time," he explained slowly. "Besides, we aren't that easy to take down, in case you haven't noticed. And we'll go there with the police as back up."

D'Artagnan studied Porthos for a moment and then looked at Athos and nodded. "Give me a pen and paper. I will write down the address for you."

Aramis smiled grimly, and got up to do as the boy had asked. If this turned out to be the break they were looking for, then it meant that Rooger had abused a lot more women than the ones they had been able to track down. Who knew, maybe they would find the man himself in one of the pictures, and there won't even be the need for anymore witnesses.

That horrible rapist was going to go away for a long long time. Athos took the paper on which d'Artagnan had written down the address and dialed the office, walking away to make the call.

It was late, but this could not wait.

Five days later, the case had been won and the man had been sentenced to three lifetimes in prison. D'Artagnan's tip had paid off, and they had found a gold mine of evidence at the address he had given them, from incriminating pictures of him doing unspeakable things to young girls to his DNA all over the place. No one else was ever going to fall at the mercy of Mark Rooger's twisted desires.

Even d'Artagnan was feeling a lot better. The swelling in his knee had subsided and he could move around with only a slight limp every now and then. He was also looking better, some color had returned to his face and the sunken hollowed look had almost disappeared.

Athos had been in a better mood than he had been in for weeks and they had decided to celebrate. A new Italian place had opened a little way off and Aramis had suggested that they try the cuisine there. D'Artagnan had looked hesitant at first, but then Aramis had turned earnest eyes at him and he had given in with a smile. Athos had driven them all to the restaurant and they were all seated at a round table tucked away in a corner.

The restaurant was not bad, not too classy to make d'Artagnan uncomfortable but a few steps up from the greasy fast food chains that had taken over the area. The food was great, if a little on the spicy side and the atmosphere relaxed.

"-and this guy here had the whole brooding thing going on, and did not even realize he was being hit upon until the man almost kissed him."

Athos watched his two friends and the kid laugh at his expense, Aramis recounting the only time he had been convinced into joining the couple on a night out and they had taken him into a gay bar. It wasn't the worst experience he had had, but it certainly wasn't a good memory.

"We had to peel the man off the floor after Athos was done punching his face in, and he was more heartbroken that Athos wasn't interested in him than concerned about his broken nose." Porthos completed the story after they had regained their breaths.

Athos knew that they should talk to d'Artagnan about what he wanted to do now that he was getting better, he wanted the kid to know that he was welcome to stay if he wanted. He was almost sure that d'Artagnan would even accept the offer but the boy looked so relaxed, so at ease, with his head thrown back in laughter and his hair flopping around, that Athos just did not have the heart to put him on his guard by bringing anything serious up. He decided that he would talk to him tomorrow and convince him to stay. Tonight they can just tell stupid stories about each other, eat too spicy food and have a good time.

He wished he had said something then, when on waking up the next day they found the door to d'Artagnan's room open, the room empty except for a scribbled note on the pillow.

_Thank you. _

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_So thoughts? I have a large part of what is to come written already and you can convince me to put it up sooner by leaving word. :)  
Cheers. _


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N**: Well, here's the promised quick update. Though it would have been a lot quicker if not for the whole outage thing that happened.  
**Warnings**: Heavy mention of drinking. Some physical violence. (Non graphic)

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Chapter 4

Aramis pushed Porthos through the front door, his lips not leaving the other man's for a single second and laughed when his lover grunted, almost losing his balance. Porthos steadied himself and grabbed Aramis by the neck, pulling him closer, _needing_ him with a ferocity that defied the restrictions of so many _clothes_.

Aramis chuckled at Porthos's roughness and loosened his tie as both of them kicked off their shoes. It had been a dull day at the office until Aramis had started texting Porthos, who had been away meeting with a client.

And what texts they had been. Porthos had had to sit and smile and pretend he did _not_ have a raging hard-on as he oh so casually kept glancing at his phone. He may have excused himself from the meeting and jacked off to some of the positively evil texts in the bathroom. Porthos growled as he took in Aramis's half-done tie and roughed up shirt.

He intended to make the other man _pay_.

Aramis grinned at the dark desire in his boyfriend's eyes. "So we can forgo dinner I suppose?"

"Oh no worries." Porthos said, capturing the grinning mouth in a hard kiss, "I intend to eat _you_ tonight."

The kiss was a frenzied clash of tongue and teeth and lips as both men fought for dominance. It was a while before Aramis relented and relaxed as Porthos completely ravished his mouth, one hand buried in his lover's dark hair and the other roaming under the shirt. A low moan sounded from further in the hall and both the men froze, lips still locked together. They looked at each other and Aramis groaned into the kiss.

Not the sexy groan of want and need which sent al the blood in Porthos' body straight to his cock. No this groan meant something very different.

They had company.

Aramis extracted himself from Porthos' arms who let him go after only a moment's hesitation and stepped back. Their eyes met, Aramis' apologetic and Porthos' understanding and the latter nodded. "Right. I'll go upstairs, get a bath ready. You put him to bed and join me."

Aramis nodded in agreement, smiling at his boyfriend's suggestive winking. "Yeah, I'll be up in a minute."

He made his way to the couch while taking off his coat and slinging it one of the other sofas and looked down at his friend.

Athos was curled up on the larger sofa, his big frame not quite fitting, an arm swinging out with a bottle of wine clutched tightly in it. Aramis did not think he had gone to sleep, he suspected his friend had passed out instead. He frowned and took the bottle from him before shaking his shoulder.

When there was no reaction except an incoherent mumble, Aramis bent down and picked up the other man, slinging his arm over his shoulders and grabbing him around the waist. He carried him like that to Athos' room, and put him to bed. Athos fell gracelessly when Aramis let go, his arms flopping as he landed on his stomach. Aramis turned him over to his side and took off his shoes. He pulled the covers until they covered the sleeping man's shoulders and brushed sweaty locks of dark hair out of his friend's eyes.

He stepped back and opening a drawer took out some pills. Getting a glass of water from the kitchen he placed both on the nightstand in arm's reach from the bed. He gazed at the unconscious man who was mumbling in his sleep, his nightmares following him even to that extent of drunken oblivion, not letting him rest.

Before the man had used to drink this much only after exceptionally painful cases, but in the month since meeting d'Artagnan he had been drinking himself to sleep almost every night. Aramis knew that the boy's abrupt arrival into their lives and even more brusque departure from it had affected Athos more than he cared to admit. He was as good as ever at his job as ever, better actually, his cases being the only thing he paid any attention to. Apart from that he declined any attempts to get him to socialize, glared sourly at any attempt at conversation, did not eat unless forced and was overall on a one way ride to a premature grave.

Each night he would come back home late after being kicked out from the office by Treville or dragged out by Aramis or Porthos, and ate only whatever Aramis could coax into him before taking his place on the couch with the bottle of his choice and steadily drinking until he passed out. Each night either Aramis or Porthos carried him into his bedroom and put him to bed.

They could do nothing more except be there for him and pick him up when he had fallen too far. They hadn't seen him this bad ever since _she_ had died, and they knew no amount of talking to him or forcing him to get over it would work. They had tried everything they could think of then but the raw look on Athos' face had faded only with time.

Aramis can sew together gaping gashes and oozing bullet wounds with such neatness that they wouldn't leave a scar. But there was nothing he could do for his friend. Only time could heal the wounds which had been torn open again by the boy's soft smiles and young innocence. Aramis just hoped there was enough will to live left in his friend to get him through.

One last look at the forlorn form on the bed and he closed the door and went upstairs to his own room and sought comfort his boyfriend's arms.

XXX

Athos was pissed.

The new intern had decided it would be a great idea to tell everyone who called for him at the office that he was 'otherwise occupied,' when he had been sitting at his desk all morning wondering why no one was calling him for any work.

Granted his head had been killing him and he had looked like death warmed over but that wasn't exactly a new occurrence and therefore not a cause for concern. Not for the dimwitted bleeding heart of an intern, anyway.

Athos had, with all the delight in the world, unleashed his rage at the intern and given him such a dressing down that the man had been reduced to tears towards the end.

That had made him feel marginally better until a very _very_ furious Aramis and Porthos had marched into his room, sent apparently by Treville to 'knock some sense into that idiot and stop him from becoming a complete asshole.'

Athos had called Aramis the asshole, Aramis had called him a pathetic child who didn't have the guts to do something about what was really wrong to which Athos had pointed out that he had just let the intern know very clearly what was really wrong. There had been a few heartbeats of silence and then Porthos had commented quietly, "You know he is talking about d'Artagnan."

Things had just gone downhill from there. Athos had shut down, not replying to any other jibe, in Aramis' case or sympathetic statement from Porthos. He had tried to drone out their voices by listening to 'Stairway to Heaven' playing in his head but some bits and pieces had still filtered through.

"_Grow a backbone would you?" _

"_We know he reminded you of your brother, it's okay to miss him." _

"_Oh for god's sake, get a grip. You are still alive, despite your best attempts, so you might as well try to stop fucking your life up!" _

"_It's hard, we get it. But he is gone…"_

"_So why don't you do something about it?"_

He didn't know what the point had been. It was probably to talk some sense into him. But all his friends have succeeded in doing was make him very very pissed.

So much so that he was prowling the dark, cold streets of Paris, hoping to… pick a fight, maybe. Take out all the anger on some sick fuck. Or lose himself in the confusing alleyways so he wouldn't have to go home… Or maybe, catch a sight of dark hair flopping over bright eyes sparkling in the too pale face of a too thin boy – No, he was just looking for a fight.

Yes, that was so much simpler.

He wasn't entirely displeased thus when he rounded a corner and peered into a particularly filthy alley to find a group of six boys beating up a lone one.

He walked closer, intending to lend a piece of his mind about what he thought about bullies who ganged up on a single person unfairly, when he froze.

The dark hair, the familiar scrunched up shoulders, the quiet stifled moans.

No, it couldn't be.

His mind went completely blank as he took in the curled up form on the ground and he did not realize when he let out a furious roar and walked over to the attackers. The fight was quick, it was brutal, untrained, wannabe gangsters being no match for Athos.

He stood with his fists clenched surrounded by the fallen bodies of the unconscious attackers and took a moment to calm himself before approaching the one in the middle. d'Artagnan hadn't moved since Athos had arrived and he knelt next to the boy to check how badly he was damaged.

Athos pushed the horror, fear and _ohgodlethimbeokayplease_ down firmly, and slowly and methodically checked the lad for broken bones and bleeding gashes. A shallow head wound had bled like head wounds tended to and his hair was clumped together. He found a deep gash on a shoulder, which had bled until it had turned the shirt d'Artagnan was wearing into a dirty red. It looked like it had been caused by a knife and Athos grit his teeth in anger. So not only were the spineless bastards attacking a single boy, they had brought a knife along. There were several other shallow cuts on his arms and severe bruising on the back. They had probably not stopped kicking after d'Artagnan had gone down: one of the bruises was distinctly boot shaped.

An anguished whimper escaped from the unconscious boy and brought tears to Athos' eyes. He blinked them away resolutely and carefully picked up the kid, feeing a vague sense of déjà vu. He shifted d'Artagnan's head until it was resting against Athos' shoulder so that the injured shoulder wouldn't be jostled too much, cursing himself to be in too much of an angry haze to take his car or even his phone with him on his nocturnal walk.

He started walking knowing that anyplace where he could stop and place a call for an ambulance was still a few blocks from wherever he was. No shop in the area dared to be open after sundown, no one wanting to become prey for the dangerous types that prowled these streets.

No place in Paris was shabby or poor by day. In the sunlight, the houses looked antiquated yet quaint. But once the sun set, the sheer _greyness_ of these areas was enough to make someone claustrophobic. And then when the homeless junkies or the rowdy gangs started making themselves known, it was best to stay inside and close the windows and pretend you cannot hear the sounds of some guy being beaten up or some shop being robbed.

Athos wondered how many times that guy had been d'Artagnan. To survive on the streets, boys either sought the protection of one of the gangs or learnt to protect themselves. It didn't seem like d'Artagnan had done either. He walked steadily, trying not to pay attention to how extremely light the body in his arms was, crossing a couple of blocks until he could make out a light glowing on a phone booth. His pace quickened and he hurried to it.

XXX

Aramis had known he would feel like hell after, but damn if it hadn't felt good to let out the anger that had been building up inside at seeing his friend go down a path he had thought they had steered him away from a long time ago.

And sure enough two minutes after Athos had stood up and walked out of his office, a thunderous rage brewing beneath his stoic expression, his knees had buckled and Aramis had found himself being pulled into Porthos' waiting arms. He had sought comfort, burying deep in his boyfriend's chest as the bigger man enveloped him in a hug. The sobs that came were more from emotional exhaustion than anything else but Porthos had murmured sweet nothings in his ear along with telling him that Athos had needed the push, and that he had done good.

Aramis knew his friend needed to hear the things he had said, but that did not stop him from feeling utterly and completely wretched. But they had work to do, and since Athos had walked off, Aramis took over his phone calls and Porthos rescheduled the appointments he had had for the day. They dreaded going home later, not wanting to find their friend in a drunken oblivion again, and realizing their words had not had any effect whatsoever.

Athos was a cool, collected and calm person. Unless he was angry.

Then all bets were off. He might rage and rant, or he might destroy things or he might look to punch someone. Aramis and Porthos had dealt with all of it before, helping him up, picking up the pieces and putting him back together when he was spent.

But Aramis had never seen the cold fury he had caught a glimpse of in his friend's eyes before he had waked out. It frightened him, like things did not frighten him anymore.

Aramis had been staring at the same piece of paper for the past half an hour, eyes glazed over, contemplating calling it a day and getting back home to his bed, when Porthos burst into his room.

"Athos called. He is in the hospital!" There was a worried edge to Porthos' words, an edge that rarely made an appearance.

Aramis shot up from his seat, his hand grabbing his hat and coat. "Did he say how bad he was hurt? Did you speak to him or the doctor? Did he sound bad? Oh god… this is all my fault. I was too hard on him." Aramis rocked back on his heels, his mind going through one scenario after the other all of which ended with Athos lying bleeding, almost dead on the streets of Paris.

Porthos looked at the other man, unsure of whether to answer his questions or comfort him. "Look, he called me himself from his own mobile. And he did not sound hurt, just tired. He asked if you were with me before asking if both of us can come, so… let's just get there first."

Aramis nodded, and the duo hurried out after a word to Treville. They did not tell the DA anything about Athos yet, they didn't want him to worry unless they had confirmed there was something to worry about.

Knowing Athos, there probably was a _lot_ to worry about.

Athos sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair gazing at the unconscious young boy lying on the bed attached to the IVs. He hadn't wanted to chance missing some vital injury and had called for an ambulance instead of calling Aramis. It had been only when the doctors had come out of the ER and told him that d'Artagnan had been stitched up and moved into a room that Athos' mind had worked past the frantic pleading and praying and he had called his friends to tell them where he was.

The boy looked tired and worn out, with bags under his eyes and his skin a sickly grey color. He was painfully thin, his long loose limbs without a single ounce of muscle on them. Athos stared at him and couldn't stop himself from reaching out and brushing away the dark hair which contrasted starkly with the clean white bandage around his head.

It had been a rare turn of luck, a brief acknowledgement perhaps of his miserable existence by whoever Aramis prayed to, that Athos had found him when he had. Otherwise, Athos thought with a shudder, d'Artagnan wouldn't have survived the night.

"Dad…?" d'Artagnan mumbled, unconsciously turning towards Athos' touch.

An iron fist clenched Athos' heart and it _hurt_. He rubbed his eyes with one hand, feeling a headache starting for lack of alcohol, and took a deep breathe. He sat silently one hand going through the sleeping boy's hair, lost in his thoughts.

He didn't know if it was hours or minutes later that Aramis and Porthos burst into the room and froze, their eyes widening at the unexpected sight before them. The couple had come in fearing the worse when they had been told that Athos had been in this room since the surgery but now fear for their friend turned into concern and anxiousness for the boy that they hadn't even realized they had started caring about.

"Oh my god, Athos!" Aramis cried out automatically assuming the worst, "Did you beat him up _again_?"

"_What_?" Athos's confusion was enough proof of his innocence. That, and the look of utter disgust he shot Aramis before turning back to watch the sleeping kid. "For God's sake, no. I found some punks attacking him and got him here."

Porthos nodded while Aramis looked at him in silent apology. Athos managed a small smile to ease the worry on both their faces. "He had a flesh wound on the shoulder and some cuts and bruises all over, and other than the fact that he looks like a starved puppy, the doctors say he's going to be fine."

Porthos sighed in relief. "This time, can we tie him to the bed or something, to stop him from leaving?"

Aramis grinned but then sobered up quickly, "No that would only spook him. We need to talk to him."

Athos nodded in agreement. "I was thinking the same thing. He'll probably be full of wounded pride on being saved again, though." He grinned, looking at the young boy in bed.

"Have you eaten at all since leaving the office?" Porthos asked, looking at Athos and groaned when Athos shook his head no. "You know, you need to stop acting like a child if we are to have an actual one around."

Athos looked annoyed for a moment before looking away, ashamed. "I know." He looked at his friends, "I am sorry you two had to put up with me and I just…" he trailed off, not having the words to explain what it was that had sent him over the edge again. He wasn't sure he himself knew either.

His friends nodded, not needing any words of apology or explanation.

"You think he'll agree to staying with us?" Aramis asked.

Porthos looked at him. "No, I don't."

Athos looked at him, aghast at the possibility of letting the kid go again after just saving his life. "Well, we'll just have to convince him then."

"That might not be as easy as you think." Aramis said softly, watching d'Artagnan shift restlessly in his sleep.

"I know," Athos said simply, resuming his task of combing through d'Artagnan's hair. The kid relaxed into the touch once again.

XXX

He had thought he had heard voices, he had tried to listen to them. But he was so tired and the darkness was so much more comforting.

There had been a touch. A touch he hadn't felt in ages. He must be back home, sick with some ailment or the other with his worried father sitting at his bedside. He smiled softly and welcomed the darkness again.

There was _pain_.

So much pain. It called out to him, but he shied away, preferring to remain in the dark. But the pain would not leave him be. A soft gasp escaped his lips and he clenched his hand around something warm.

"Shh, it's okay," a voice said from above him and d'Artagnan struggled to open his eyes.

There was someone there. He didn't know who, and he didn't know where he was. Panic threatened to overcome him and he felt his heartbeat speeding up.

"d'Artagnan, it's me, Athos. You are in a hospital." The voice said again. "Please relax, it's going to be okay."

Athos. The name sounded familiar. It reminded d'Artagnan of a house, and laughter and _safety_.

His pounding heart slowed and he breathing became easier. He gave up the fight to open his eyes and relaxed, welcoming the darkness.

It wasn't until the next day that d'Artagnan woke up. Aramis and Porthos were at the office, but Athos had asked for a day off. With the number of cases he had been closing recently, and the number of hours he had put in, Treville had granted him a couple days leave. He had not left d'Artagnan's bedside for a single moment except to relieve himself and freshen up in the morning after having fell asleep sitting on the chair.

He did not even notice that d'Artagnan had woken up for some time. The kid had been moaning in his sleep and the nurse he had called had increased the morphine in his system so he had assumed that he would remain out of it for a long time to come.

D'Artagnan quietly watched the man bent over some papers in his hand, reading intently. He looked terrible, his clothes rumpled and his frame thinner than he had last seen him. But d'Artagnan supposed he really shouldn't be calling the kettle black. He knew didn't look ready to win some body building championship himself, either. For several minutes he did not say anything to get the man's attention, wondering what exactly had kept an unknown stranger at his bedside when he was out of it. Come to think of it, why had he brought him here, how had he found him, _what did he want?_

Athos sighed, rubbing his eyes with two fingers. Except the first line, everything else on the form was completely blank. It was a patient record form and he was filling it for d'Artagnan. Problem was, other than his name he knew nothing about the boy. He decided to leave it alone for now and glanced up to find a pair of watchful eyes studying him.

"Hi." He smiled, caught unaware. "How long have you been awake?"

"Not long," d'Artagnan rasped, his voice sounding like crushed glass. Athos winced and got up to hold the glass of water on the sidetable to the boy's lips. He took a sip, and laid back, simply watching him.

Athos felt like he was being stripped to the bone, under the examining heavy gaze. But he did not back down, hoping that d'Artagnan found whatever it was that he was looking for. The boys expression remain unchanged but he was the one who looked away first, glancing at the papers in Athos' hand. "Work?"

Athos looked down, not understanding what he was talking about before shaking his head. "No, no." He laid the papers on the table. "They are your patient forms, you can tell me what to put in them later."

Whatever he was expecting at this not so subtle request for some personal information it wasn't the sudden look of utter panic and _fear_ which dominated the boy's face as he sat up in a single motion before moaning in pain when he jarred his shoulder.

"D'Art, don't move that fast, you'll pull out the stitches!" Athos grabbed the boy gently by the shoulders and was about to lower him back on the bed. But d'Artagnan grasped the front of his shirt instead, hands clenching the fist with a strength that surprised Athos.

"Did you put in my name? Did you tell them who I was?"

There was a terrible intensity in his eyes as they glistened with teas of pain, holding a raw unbridled terror in them that Athos found himself wanting to envelop the kid in his arms and just hold him until that look went away. He settled for placing a hand on d'Artagnan's and another cupping his cheek.

"Kid, I haven't given them anything yet. If you don't want them to know your name, then they won't know your name. They won't even know you exist, if that would make you happy." He paused to make sure that d'Artagnan understood. "Now please, lie down. I'll call the nurse for the pain."

D'Artagnan nodded, the fear diminishing from his face as he allowed himself to be settled back on the pillows. He did not let go of Athos's shirt though, until Athos himself gently peeled his hands off, laying his arms on his sides and brushing a hand through his hair. D'Artagnan's eyes closed but his uneven breathing told him that he had not gone to sleep.

Athos settled back into the chair, his eyes fixed on the kid in the bed and he wondered at his own surprising behavior. He hadn't felt this protective of anyone since Tom.

He had thought that he had lost the ability to care for someone to that extent with Tom's death.

It seemed that the boy would not stop surprising him anytime soon.

After a long silence, d'Artagnan spoke again, his eyes remaining closed. "I have an uncle. After my father died, he inherited the estate and came over to live in the house. I ran away a few months later." He opened his eyes to look at Athos. "If he finds out where I am, he'll send people looking for me."

Never had he thought that he could hate with such a ferocity as Athos felt then, for this uncle he had never met, but because of whom d'Artagnan had looked so terrified. But the kid was talking to him, and Athos was nothing if he wasn't a very good lawyer who knew exactly how to press to get information. "How long ago was this?"

"I was thirteen when dad was murdered," came the quiet answer. A year, two at most then. That's how long d'Artagnan had been living on the streets.

"I lived off my friends for a while, but then he came looking so I had to leave school and cut off everyone I knew," d'Artagnan's voice sounded like as if he was talking about someone other than himself. Detached and distant.

Athos mused on the information. D'Artagnan wasn't the pitiable but not so rare case of a child abandoned to the streets, he had taken to them as a means of escape from something much worse. Athos did not think he really wanted to know what the uncle had done to cause a thirteen year old kid to run away. "What's your uncle's name?"

D'Artagnan opened his eyes and stared at him, suddenly cold and distrusting. "Why?"

"I'm a lawyer. Perhaps I can look into his affairs, find some legal loophole to get you your home back." Athos explained.

D'Artagnan remained quiet and when it became apparent that he wasn't going to give Athos the name, Athos nodded. "It's okay, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

D'Artagnan shook his head as if to clear it of some confusion. "Why are you helping me?"

Athos had rather hoped he wouldn't be asked that question. He didn't really know why, to be honest.

Perhaps he saw in the young life so full of innocence and potential something that he once had a lifetime ago; perhaps it was because he was so much like Tom, young and naïve; perhaps because he just wanted to fix someone else's life if not his own. Perhaps he just had a Messiah complex and was an arrogant idiot.

None of which he could say to the young boy and not wound his pride. He settled for an eloquent shrug of the shoulders, "I'm a nice guy…?" he suggested as a possible answer.

An eyebrow was raised, "The last nice guy I trusted tried to chop off all my fingers."

The cold detached statement had Athos stealing a glance at d'Artagnan's hands to make sure it wasn't lacking any finger. This time Athos let some of the hot flare of anger it give birth to seep through his calm façade. "Tell me his name and I will cut off his hands, so he doesn't threaten anyone like that again."

"There you go again."

Athos sighed. The kid had a point. "I don't know why. But I don't want you to be hurt. Is that such a bad thing?"

D'Artagnan stared at him, incredulous. "You don't know me from any random street thug who would rob you blind and slit your throat in your sleep!"

"Look, there really is no need to put everything under a microscope." Athos was quickly running out of ideas. He wondered if he should have kept his big gob shut. Aramis would have handled this so much better. Even Porthos who was infamous as a lawyer of few words, would get through better than him. D'Artagnan seemed intent on pushing him into one corner after another, making him examine things and _feelings_ he would rather leave alone.

It was slightly infuriating.

"You aren't in the best place right now, it happens. Sometimes life sucks. I'm offering you a better option. Why wouldn't you take it?"

D'Artagnan glared. "I'm not some charity case that you can just take in. I would rather prefer to live alone than be at some stranger's mercy."

Athos cringed at the proud statement. "Jesus kid, you really aren't making this easy, are you?"

D'Artagnan tried to continue glaring at the other man. Who was he to think that he could just offer him a better life on a silver platter and he would meekly accept it? But the exasperated look on the older man's face reminded him so much of the expression his father used to get when he was particularly fed up arguing the same point over and over and just wanted to get it over with, that he couldn't help the soft smile that followed the memory.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice quiet. Whatever Athos had done, he had done nothing but help him. Barring the fact that he was going slightly overboard with the protectiveness, it had been a long time since d'Artagnan had someone looking out for him. He kind of missed the feeling.

Athos looked surprise at the change in demeanor and raised his eyebrows in question.

"My father used to say the exact same thing when I started getting on his last nerve." D'Artagnan did not meet his eyes as he explained and Athos smiled. Whoever he had been, d'Artagnan's father had done a fine job raising his son in what little time he was given with him. And the boy clearly seemed to respect and love the deceased man if the wistful tone was anything to go by.

"Let's not argue about stuff just yet," Athos suggested, a peace offering. He sat down on the chair and leaned back. "Rest now." He suddenly sat up straight. "And please, please don't sneak away again. I really don't want to find you half dead in a ditch someplace a month from now."

"Hey!" d'Artagnan protested, though his heart wasn't in it. His eyes were getting heavier, the pain meds doing their job, "I was handling it just fine before you barged in."

Athos smiled at him sleepily. "Yea, whatever makes you happy kid."

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_As always, I would love to hear what you think._


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: So I got around 7000 words of this story written today. I swear it has taken a life of its own, its writing itself now. I'm just the one typing it out. It's like I have chapters planned but then my lawyers and their puppy looks at me and raise their eyebrow in a 'really' gesture, and I end up screwing the plot and writing more family fluff.  
This chapter is dedicated to See Me As I Am 101 for their amazing continued love and support. Darling you put a smile on my face after a Very Bad Day, and I love you for that.  
All you people who've followed and favorited I am indebted to, but the reviewers are whom I've given my heart. Your reviews are making me give up food and sleep and keep on and on typing relentlessly. Thank you a million times and this quick update is your reward. It's a short chapter but I like it this way.  
Sorry for the LONG note, but it's just that kind of mood I'm in right now.

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Chapter 5:

The three men in room 520 were the talk of the entire hospital. Nurses kept coming in for random reasons, shooting thinly veiled looks at the undeniably attractive, muscled and downright charming lawyers who visited the sickly looking youngster.

Athos was the cause of this popularity. Word of his run in with Dr. Jacob, a veteran doctor of the hospital notorious for being a classist stickler; had gone viral inside the hospital. It had been the third day since admitting d'Artagnan into the care of the hospital and Athos had been approached by the middle aged balding doctor and asked to stop visiting the vagabond so that the hospital can give his room to someone else.

Athos had taken the time to collect himself and quell the rage at the doctor's words during which Dr. Jacob had gone on to explain how useless people like that were leeches on society, living off the charity of others and how it would be best for Athos to distance himself before he got hurt.

"The only person getting hurt monsieur, is going to be you, if you don't get out of my sight right now. The hospital's bills will be paid by me and that vagabond as you call him is to receive the best treatment there is. Need I remind you that my friends and I are three of the best lawyers in the country and we would nail your discriminating ass so hard that you wouldn't be able to practice again, not even if you move to Kyrgyzstan. Then when he has recovered enough he will be released into my care, is that understood?"

The doctor had turned a dangerous shade of purple with anger and the entire corridor had gotten deathly quiet. Then Dr. Jacob had turned tail and gotten as far away from Athos as possible and the rumors had erupted.

The men in d'Artagnan's room were not entirely oblivious to the increase in attention. They were being brought regular coffee from the cafeteria downstairs, and the nurses were not being subtle in their interest. But they didn't find it cause for concern yet, as a matter of fact Porthos found it quite hilarious how the nurses kept throwing themselves at Aramis. He had not been able to stop from bursting into loud guffaws of laughter when a forty something lady had dropped a cup on the lawyers lap and then suggestively cleaned up the spilled tea.

Aramis' face had been an incredible shade of red from embarrassment though he had covered it up and flirted with her rather shamelessly.

D'Artagnan found himself laughing and talking about random things with the three friends. They were certainly interesting people with all the quirks and character traits to keep anyone entertained for hours. He noticed that Athos did not tend to join in the good natured ribbing the other two participated in, preferring instead to smile and explain some of the more obscure inside jokes that they cracked relentlessly, to d'Artagnan.

It was so easy to lose track of time with them that when the nurse came with the release papers in hand for Athos to sign, d'Artagnan was caught off guard. He did not know what he should do. What he wanted more than anything was to go home with these people, who had proven to be honorable decent men and who had each told him separately that they would love it if he stayed with them. But there was the matter of propriety to think of. He couldn't just impose on their hospitality like that, no matter how desperate his situation. He had been brought up with a certain degree of self-respect which did not allow him to just accept the charity of others.

Athos signed the papers, aware of the stare that d'Artagnan had directed at him. He did not acknowledge the boy, commenting instead at something Aramis was saying. D'Artagnan had recovered from his injuries, but he was in no state to go around being picked upon by street thugs yet.

He was going home with them, no questions asked. And this time Athos was going to sleep with one eye open so that he couldn't sneak out during the night.

Porthos went to get the car to the front door and Athos to take care of the hospital bill. Aramis was left to help d'Artagnan into the shirt and trousers that they had brought, the boy's own clothes too torn and bloody to be salvaged, and get him into the wheelchair brought by the waiting nurse.

He hushed d'Artagnan's protests that he could walk fine by himself, thank you very much and told him to stay put before kneeling down in front of him and looking him in the eye. "You know that you are welcome to stay with us, but you might think you wouldn't want to inconvenience us by taking us up on the offer so I am going to tell you something that you must listen to carefully and consider before you think about pulling another Houdini act."

D'Artagnan looked at the man, who was completely serious for once and nodded. Aramis took a deep breath and said, "It really isn't my place to tell you this, but Athos is far too proud to admit it himself. A few years ago, something terrible happened to him and he lost two of the people he was closest to in the world, his wife and his little brother. Ever since he has been barely surviving, only because he is too stubborn to put the gun he keeps on his bedside table in his mouth and pull the trigger. Nothing that Porthos and I did had ever been successful in bringing back the life to his face." Aramis paused and put a hand on d'Artagnan's knee. "But then you came along. That week you were with us was the most he had smiled and laughed and talked and _been himself_ for the past five years. It was like he had been shaken awake from some deep slumber and breathed after a long long time."

D'Artagnan listened, amazed. He had seen the unmistakable look of someone who had suffered in Athos' eyes, but he hadn't guessed just how deep that pain went.

"He needs you as much as you need him. If you leave, you will probably survive out on the streets. You're smart and in a few years you might even make something of yourself. But he will be completely broken. You are the second chance he never thought he deserved. So please, please think about what I've told you before making a decision."

The intensity behind the request was such that d'Artagnan found that he could only nod his head in reply. Aramis smiled, and bowed his head, rubbing at his eyes, casually. "Besides I've always wanted a puppy."

Both the men grinned, thankful for the levity the offhand statement offered. As he was wheeled out D'Artagnan couldn't help but feel a certain degree of awe at the three men as they bickered on who got to drive them home. Aramis won, it was his car after all. D'Artagnan wasn't sure he had met anyone as resilient as them even while on the streets. Despite everything they had seen and been through, they still had not lost their decency or humanity. He kept shooting glances at Athos, who must have noticed but did not comment.

Was what Aramis had said about how Athos felt about him really true?

The more important question was, what was he going to do now? He was at a crossroads, one that he would remember all his life. On one side were the known dangers of life on the streets, and on the other was the more frightening prospect of putting his trust and life in the hands of someone else, someone who was a relative stranger.

But then again, family wasn't restrained to blood. D'Artagnan's own hadn't given a damn about him once his father had passed away. Maybe he could find a place where he belonged amidst people who had faced similar grievances from life.

D'Artagnan smiled tentatively as he stared out of the window, on his way _home_.

D'Artagnan turned around rolling his eyes at the look of intense concentration on Aramis' face. Aramis studied him intently, before shaking his head in refusal.

"No, it's not long enough."

Even Porthos looked like as if some last thread of patience was keeping him together. "I'm sure it's sufficient to keep him warm," he suggested, "seeing as that is the point."

"Yes, but a long coat should come at least be till below the knees." He pulled the coat off of d'Artagnan who shrugged out of it gladly. "I'm sorry, we won't be taking this one."

Athos had sent d'Artagnan out shopping with Porthos and Aramis after deeming the warm and utterly _comfortable_ leather jacket that he had given d'Artagnan to protect himself against the November chill to be too shabby. He had tried to protest that he really did not need anything more, but Athos had just stared at him dejectedly until he had bowed his head and given in. He had thought that the smile on the older man's face had been worth going shopping with Aramis but now, after three hours of trudging after the pair he wasn't so sure anymore.

Aramis was like a very hungry dog after a very succulent bone as he roamed the streets of Paris, going into one boutique after the other, making d'Artagnan try everything but settling on almost nothing. After three hours all they had to show for their excursion was two sweaters and a set of head scarves that Porthos had insisted d'Artagnan would need. "Really if you prefer to keep your ears attached, you would get decent scarves to wrap them up."

D'Artagnan thought it was a little too much. They were shopping on Athos' card and Aramis was pulling out all the stops. It was the kind of street in Paris that d'Artagnan hadn't ever been to, not even with his father. He had been worried that it would be a little expensive but Porthos had shaken off his quiet complaint to him telling him that Athos was 'filthy rich very old money with a title and everything' and he shouldn't worry.

Aramis had just looked at him as if he was speaking some other language that he couldn't understand. "It's going to be cold! We can't afford to be cheap! You'll catch a cold and then die and then Athos will kill us."

D'Artagnan rolled his eyes at the melodrama. "I'm not sure I won't beat him to it if you don't get home, _now_."

Porthos chuckled at the indignation in d'Artagnan's voice but raised an eyebrow when the boy's stomach growled. D'Artagnan blushed, mortified. "I think our young friend has had enough, Aramis. Let's go before Athos starts getting anxious."

"But we aren't done shopping!" Aramis looked at his boyfriend, pouting.

"Sirs, would you like to try out our new collection of coats?" a immaculate lady in a smart skirt asked, d'Artagnan glaring daggers at her.

"I would love to, darling." Aramis lowered his voice, in what d'Artagnan thought to be a very cheap gimmick. But it seemed to work though as the saleslady looked slightly besotted with the grinning man. "But we would have to call it a day. Maybe we will drop by at some other time."

"But of course!" the lady fluttered her eyebrows at Aramis. "Come anytime you want."

Porthos snaked an arm around Aramis' waist and pulled him close. "We will keep that in mind, ma'am." He turned around to speak into Aramis' ear, though his voice was loud enough to be heard by even d'Artagnan who was standing a little way off watching with an amused smirk. "Wouldn't we, love?"

Aramis did not blink an eyelid as he turned and gave Porthos a small kiss before smiling brightly at him. "Promise?"

Porthos nodded, so completely in love with the way the dark eyes seemed to twinkle when Aramis smiled that he would have promised him the sun and the moon had he asked. "Of course, darling."

The saleslady looked between the two face torn between being disappointed that Aramis wasn't interested in her and delighted at the cuteness of the couple. Not knowing how to react she sought out d'Artagnan who had been looking at a rather large coat on display on one of the mannequins with some interest.

"I would get that one for you in your size sir, if you like it."

D'Artagnan looked unsure. The coat was a lovely grey, the soft fur delighting to the touch. It looked far too expensive than anything d'Artagnan had ever owned. Porthos and Aramis broke away from each other, immediately coming up to where d'Artagnan was standing. "Oh what an absolute beauty," Aramis whispered, removing the coat from the mannequin and holding it in front of him.

"One size smaller than this please." The lady instantly went to a backroom to get the required size. She came out carrying it and handed it to Porthos who helped d'Artagnan into it. It was a beautiful fit.

D'Artagnan looked at himself in the full length mirror. He could barely recognize the person staring back at him. Gone were the pale sunken cheeks and dark heavy bags under his eyes. A lot of color had returned back to his face in the month he had been staying with the guys, and he had even put on some weight so the coat did not hang off his shoulders like it would once have. Instead it hugged them snugly and tapered down to the waist before ending at the knees. The dark maroon inner lining showed at the cuffs and down the middle, and gave the coat a regal look.

"My god, this is perfect." Aramis breathed out, his voice a whisper. D'Artagnan turned to him.

"You think so?"

"Absolutely." Porthos agreed. "It's gorgeous." He turned to the lady, "We are taking it."

"But don't you think it's a little…" d'Artagnan started to protest, having taken off the coat and seen the price tag. But a glance at both his friends had him going quiet.

"Yea, that's what I thought." Aramis said, smirking at his silence. "You bring up cost one more time and Athos would hear of it."

D'Artagnan nodded, handing the coat to the lady who smiled and went to pack it up, Aramis following her to pay for it.

Coming home to find Athos laying out the table, having cooked the most delicious smelling pasta ever was one of the best things about the day, in d'Artagnan's opinion. He dumped the shopping bags in his room before washing up hurriedly to help out Athos with the last of the plates and the glasses, while the other two went to their bedroom to get fresh. Athos had insisted that d'Artagnan move into a larger bedroom downstairs, claiming that the other one was too small. D'Artagnan had insisted it was completely fine until Aramis had shamelessly informed him that the smaller room located near the main door was reserved for when he and Porthos returned home too hot for each other, and couldn't be bothered to move to their own bedroom.

Athos had looked disapproving but had smirked when d'Artagnan had blushed a beetroot red. The next day had seen the teenager settled into the room that Athos had wanted him to move into, which was conveniently a few steps away from Athos' own bedroom and nothing more had been said about the matter.

A few nights ago once when d'Artagnan had woken in the night and crossed the hall to go to the bathroom he had heard enough through the closed door to know that Aramis hadn't been lying. It had taken several days for him to be able to look his friends in the face again after that.

Dinner was a loud affair, Aramis trying to recount every single thing he had forced d'Artagnan into for Athos' benefit, Porthos adding commentary and d'Artagnan swearing vehemently to never go shopping with Aramis again. He even promised Athos he would do the dishes forever if he made sure he was never in a shop with Aramis again. Athos had simply smiled at the mock desperation in the kid's voice and ruffled his hair. That had started a whole new discussion on whether he needed a haircut, d'Artagnan winning that one by pointing out both Athos' and Aramis' unruly locks and Porthos' actual goddamn man tail at the nape of his neck.

That had led to Aramis throwing suggestive comments about the many advantages of said man tail, and Athos had cuffed him lightly on the head to shut him up while the rest of them had burst out laughing.

Athos looked around the table at the lively conversation and the laughing faces. Things were good, and that in itself was enough to put him on edge. When things were good, he relaxed. And when he relaxed, that's when the shit hit the fan.

But not this time. This time Athos would fight tooth and nail with anyone who tried to destroy this small bit of peace that had finally found its way into his heart. He smiled at something Porthos had said that was making Aramis pout and passed the pasta dish to d'Artagnan whose plate was empty.

This time Athos would not let go.

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_I was listening to 'It's Time' by Imagine Dragons while writing this. (This line I guess: The path to heaven runs through miles of clouded hell, right to the top, don't look back.) I don't know why that's important but... yeah. _  
As always your thoughts are appreciated.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** So this chapter is dedicated to a guest reviewer and Holly who have both been leaving word at every chapter but to whom I can't reply on account of them not having an account. Thank you for the support.  
As for See Me As I Am, sorry no Porthos/Aramis scenes for you here. My latest one shot at the other series is your consolation. Lots of Athos and d'Artagnan though.

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Chapter 6

"So word on the street is that you have taken in a stray."

Treville had taken Athos out for their customary once a month lunch. Being an ex-military man himself, a retired captain, he looked at the people under him as soldiers under his command and Athos as his first lieutenant, though he had never said so in so many words.

Thus every month, under the guise of some case well done, or some client made happy or just a brusque 'we are having lunch today' text, Treville took Athos out to lunch. This time it was to one of Paris' newer restaurants though Athos had already eaten there with a client before. It wasn't very expensive or selective, but the food was remarkable and the service satisfactory.

The lunch was supposed to be a monthly report, a debrief of all that was happening in the higher circles that Athos wasn't privy to but which Treville frequented and thought that Athos should know about if he was to succeed him one day, a way for Treville to keep up with the inner office politics which Athos was privy to and which Treville did not have any exposure to, and an informal catching up of an old protégé and his mentor.

Athos had mixed feelings about the lunch. But then he usually had mixed feelings about most of the things related to Treville. He trusted the man with his life, but damn if he could understand how his mind worked.

Athos took his time cutting up the succulent beef steak that he had ordered. "Where did you hear that?" he asked, once he was done, holding up the piece he had cut with his fork.

"Aramis kept talking about some d'Artagnan. I asked who he was and he told me." Treville said, grinning.

Athos grunted. Word on the street, his ass. Not many people were in Athos' inner circle, none actually except Treville, his two friends and now d'Artagnan. And Athos had been very careful about who knew of d'Artagnan.

"What do you know about him?"

Athos looked at the man sharply, "Enough to know that he is worth my time and effort. I trust him."

Treville nodded, "You are the best judge of character I know Athos. I am not going to warn you about getting too close to someone who can rob you blind the moment you let your guard down."

Athos narrowed his eyes: for someone _not_ warning him, Treville's words were a little too thought out.

"But have you decided what he is to do?"

"He is too young to work. He's just fifteen," Athos said, focusing on his meal.

"But what about school then? He probably doesn't have an education if he was homeless at fifteen and he could use one," Treville suggested.

"I've thought of that." Athos put down his fork and sighed. "But there is the matter of not being his legal guardian. How can I put him in a school where they'll ask for paperwork and his documents?"

"So write up the paperwork, become his legal guardian." Treville looked at him intently. Athos was silent. It wasn't that simple. He had actually written up the paperwork quite some time ago. But d'Artagnan was in the custody of his uncle at the moment, a man that Athos had found to be a known violent drunk who was in the record for intoxicated driving. D'Artagnan's father had legally left everything to his brother, including the custody of his son, until d'Artagnan came of age. It would be a simple matter to get a judge to rule in favor of transferring custody to Athos. That was not what worried Athos.

It was d'Artagnan. The boy had settled down in an easy routine of getting his health on track and started relaxing around him and the guys. He wanted to give it some time, maybe have the boy open up to him himself about why he had left home and all that, before springing this on him. For him, it was just a piece of paper, he had already assumed total responsibility of the kid, and it wouldn't bind him to anything he wasn't prepared for. But Athos suspected d'Artagnan would not be so dismissive about the matter.

Treville studied the man across the table who had gone silent, lost in his own thoughts. "Alright, if you don't want to do that yet, I know the principal of the school in your area. I can talk to him about your boy if you want, get him to overlook the legal issues, only if you guarantee the kid won't get into any trouble."

Athos looked at the older man, startled. He had thought Treville was disapproving about the whole business but here he was helping him instead. He raised a questioning eyebrow.

"I can tell the boy has been good for you Athos. And that's really all I care about. If you are satisfied that he isn't some rogue vagabond, then that is all I need for my peace of mind." Treville explained, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

Athos nodded, his throat tightening up. He cleared it a few times before speaking, "If you can do that, it would really help. He would be able to go to school again, have friends his age, get an education." He paused and looked down at his plate. "I want to wait a while before asking him about the custody issue. I suspect he will find it quite a big deal."

"I would assume you would too." Treville said, a disapproving frown on his face.

Athos looked at him levelly. "Sir, I accepted the responsibly of having a young teenager in my care the day I decided I wasn't going to let him throw his life away by being the stubborn mule that he is and got him to stay with us. No piece of paper is going to change how I feel about him."

Treville smiled. He had expected nothing less of the noblest and most honorable man he knew.

XXX

Aramis had had a mild panic attack when he had found out that he would be travelling to England to attend a cousin's wedding during the week that they had found out d'Artagnan's birthday was in and that Porthos would be going with him. Athos had taken over to stop him from completely hyperventilating and instructed him to leave their present for the boy with him. He had assured them that he would take care to make the day special for d'Artagnan.

Athos remembered the lesson his father had instilled in him on his fifteenth birthday, taking him out for his first formal dinner and giving him his first personal watch. Athos had actually worn the Rolex tonight in a fit of sentimentality.

He intended to carry on the tradition.

D'Artagnan had been told to get dressed in something nice when Athos had gotten back from his office. Aramis and Porthos were away and d'Artagnan had intended to lose himself in the library he had found in the house and spent most of his time in during the days when all three of his friends were at work. But he had gotten dressed, curious at what Athos intended. No matter how completely transformed the light blue new shirt and sleek black pants that Aramis had gotten him made him feel, he had been struck with complete awe when Athos had walked out in a three piece charcoal grey suit which looked like as if it was built around him, clean shaven and looking for all the world like someone from the nobility that he very much belonged to.

Athos had studied d'Artagnan's appearance before leading him back into his own room. He had opened the closet and picked out a slim silk black tie. Turning d'Artagnan so that he was facing him, he had lifted his collar and did the collar button before wordlessly getting the tie in a perfect Windsor knot around his neck. He had brushed some imaginary dust off d'Artagnan's shoulder and stepped back to assess his work giving him a satisfied smile.

A short drive and a murmured name to the host had them bypassing the long line at the front door and being led to a quiet table in the classy restaurant. D'Artagnan was trying not to gape at the grand piano standing in the middle of the room or the ornate décor and the stylish people who were having dinner. He thought he recognized a few celebrities but he couldn't be sure. Looking at Athos who was talking with the waiter who apparently knew him, d'Artagnan raised his eyebrows. "Are we meeting someone here?"

Athos shook his head, ordering wine for both of them. "We're celebrating."

"Oh," d'Artagnan said. "Did you win an important case?"

Athos paused, taking a deep breathe. "No, we're celebrating your birthday."

There was a pregnant silence for a few moments before d'Artagnan spoke, his voice distant. "It's my birthday."

It wasn't a question, not quite. It was spoken more like a realization, cold and detached and Athos felt a sharp pang in his chest.

Athos nodded, and gestured at the glass. "My father took me out on my fifteenth birthday and got me my first drink." He raised his glass, and d'Artagnan copied his movements. They clinked their glasses together.

"Happy birthday, d'Artagnan."

They drank, Athos watching d'Artagnan savor the rich taste of the rich Bordeaux before swallowing it. He set the glass back on the table, his eyes glistening and he smiled. "Thank you."

Athos bowed his head in acknowledgement and the two sat back in their seats, the tinkling of the piano and the soft clatter of the china and the murmur of conversation from the other diners the only sounds for a while.

"So I see you're making use of my father's extensive collection of books," Athos said, taking the offered menu from the waiter, who stood nearby with his hands clasped in front of him to take the order.

"Yea, there are so many books in your library, it passes the time." D'Artagnan was looking unsurely at the names of the dishes and was relieved when Athos placed an order for both of them.

"Anything in particular that you enjoy?"

D'Artagnan nodded eagerly. "Nonfictionally speaking, that's historical books. History always used to be my favorite subject at school."

"All the battles and fights get your interest?" Athos asked grinning.

"That, and the political intricacies and the huge variety of customs and traditions and… Something my father once said, there's always something new to surprise you when you read of the old."

"Your father sounds like a wise man."

D'Artagnan nodded, a wistful smile on his face. "He was. Extremely kind and noble too. I haven't forgotten a single thing he taught me."

Athos wanted to wipe that painful sadness away from the young boy's face and he refrained from pressing the topic further. "What about fiction?"

D'Artagnan looked confused before visibly shaking himself away from wherever his memories had taken him. "Yes, in fiction. There aren't a lot of the contemporary novels in the library, but back when lived at home, I had started with the Lord of the Rings Trilogy. I'm finishing it now. I love all that I've read so far."

"We don't get so much time to update that library as we would like," Athos said. "And what books I do want to read I simply get them for the go on my reader."

D'Artagnan nodded, "Nothing beats the feel of a worn out well loved paperback though."

Athos smiled and nodded. "I have to talk to you about something." Just then the waiter arrived with their meals, setting down their plates with a flourish and topping their wine glasses. D'Artagnan looked unsurely at the ornately presented food but Athos picked up his fork and dug right in. After a moment, d'Artagnan followed and the waiter left.

D'Artagnan raised an eyebrow in question, not speaking with his mouth full. Athos paused to wipe at the corner of his lip and continued, "How would you like to get back to school. Finish off high school, so you can start thinking about universities?"

D'Artagnan stared at his plate quietly for so long that Athos thought he had said something to upset him. When he looked up though there were distinct tears in his eyes. "After dad… After he passed away, leaving home was only a question of when I decided enough was enough with my uncle, but I never wanted to leave school. I thought I could stay with my friends, circulating between them and continue to go to school, but that plan was short lived when my uncle and his people turned up at one of their houses looking for me, asking my friends if they knew where I was.

"I had to leave then, or risk being found out by my uncle. I never thought I would be able to go back, start again…" d'Artagnan looked away and wiped at his eyes, smiling shakily. "Athos, I would very much love to go to school again, but there is the small matter of my documents and everything. My uncle is supposed to be my guardian, he would never allow it."

Athos had to take a moment to unclench his fingers from the fork he had been trying to mangle between them. He felt like strangling this uncle that had so completely destroyed such a promising young man's life. He had read up on Henri Phillips, a thirty five year old man whom he was sure he could nail to the wall legally if he looked into his affairs. But that wasn't what Athos wanted to do. No, what he _wanted_, what every fiber of his body screamed at him to do, was to march up to the disgusting man, hold him by the throat, and _squeeze_ until he felt the bones breaking beneath his fingers and the life going out of him.

"What if I found a way to work around that?" he asked instead, not wanting to let the kid know how upset he was at the brief glimpse into his past. If he started showing how much any details of the horrors that d'Artagnan had to experience at such a young age affected him, d'Artagnan would never open up to him. Recently he had taken to mentioning something about his father or letting slip some tid bit of information about his previous life, before living on the streets in conversations and Athos did not want him to stop.

Despite the pain it caused, he knew that talking about his father was the only way he could remember his time with him. It reminded Athos of how his own father had always talked to him about Athos' mother, who had died when he was an infant. Athos wanted d'Artagnan to remember what his own father was like.

D'Artagnan smiled, "Then that would be the best birthday present ever."

Athos looked at him in exasperation. "That isn't the birthday present you idiot. He took out a case from an inner pocket in his coat. "This is."

D'Artagnan looked at the sleek long black case, not making any move to pick it up. "Go on, open it," Athos prompted.

D'Artagnan put down his fork and knife and picked it up. He opened it, his face going from surprised to awe and gratitude to apologetic and he looked up.

"If you say you can't take it, I'll kick you under the table." Athos warned when he saw the boy was about to speak. "And in a place such as this, that is heavily frowned upon." He took the case from d'Artagnan's hand, and taking hold of his left hand, fastened the watch around his wrist. It was a vintage, but nothing too fancy, a Longine Quartz. Athos wanted the kid to be able to wear the thing instead of just keeping it in a case in his closet like he had had to do with his Rolex. Those kind of gifts can be given later.

"It's… it's perfect. Thank you," d'Artagnan said, his voice barely above a whisper. Athos nodded in acceptance and picked up his fork again. D'Artagnan continued to examine the watch, the black strap contrasting vividly with his pale wrist, and the silver dial catching the lights in the restaurant. He had stopped asking why the man sitting across him cared so much, but this was… this was so above and beyond what anyone had ever done for him that he did not have the words to tell him what he meant.

D'Artagnan studied the other man and noticed the rare contended satisfied smile playing on his lips as he cut into the pieces of meat on his plate. D'Artagnan watched until Athos caught him staring before looking away.

"What is it?" Athos asked.

"Nothing, I… Have I told you how much I appreciate how much you are doing for me?"

Athos chuckled. "No, not even once," he replied. "You definitely do not thank me six thousand times every day, that's just my imagination at work." He looked at the blushing kid and continued on in a mockingly stern voice, "Really d'Art, one would imagine you don't consider us friends with the amount of politeness you execute with us. What have we done to deserve this kind of atrocious behavior?"

D'Artagnan grinned at that and Athos smiled in return. The smile became a smirk as he took out another item from his pocket. "Aramis and Porthos send their best wishes. They left this for you." He put down the sleek white mobile on the table and pushed it towards d'Artagnan.

D'Artagnan looked at the phone in surprise before sighing exasperatedly. "God Thos, you people need to stop getting me stuff. At this rate I would turn into a spoilt brat very soon." Athos simply grinned and d'Artagnan picked up the phone. It was already switched on and the screen flickered to life, a picture of Aramis and Porthos with a garish Happy Birthday set as the wallpaper. He grinned at the alert that popped up: 'It's better than the stupid watch right?' d'Artagnan took a second to flip through the apps that one of the duo had put in, before keeping it back down.

"Each of our numbers are already programmed into the contact list," Athos said, watching d'Artagnan loosely. "So what do you think?"

"It's great," d'Artagnan said with a smile. Athos shook his head.

"No, what do you think? _Is_ it better than the watch?" Athos asked, and d'Artagnan looked at his wrist again. The phone was a nice gift, it was one of the most recent models with all the bells and whistles and was certainly useful.

But the watch was from Athos. It was perfect.

Athos must have read the answer on his face because he grinned triumphantly. "I told him. I told him not to bet against me."

D'Artagnan stared at him in surprise and Athos explained. "Aramis bet that you would appreciate a practical thing like the phone a lot more that the watch. He doesn't think you're one for sentimental value and all that."

D'Artagnan grinned, "Well, it seems that you've won then."

Athos hummed happily.

Dessert was an intensely amusing affair with d'Artagnan swooning everytime he had a spoonful of the crème Brûlée and after a short while later they were making their way back. Athos parked the car in the driveway and got out. "Let's go for a walk," he suggested. "I don't want to go inside yet."

"Wow, this is starting to feel like quite the date." D'Artagnan grinned causing Athos to roll his eyes.

"You're mistaking me for Aramis." He cuffed the boy lightly at the back of his head. "You're perfectly safe with me."

"I know." D'Artagnan said quietly, and Athos smiled.

The night was beautiful, if a little chilly. The cold air wasn't at the biting intensity yet and the sky was clear of any impending clouds. Athos put his hands in his trouser pockets, having given the coat to d'Artagnan as soon as they had left the restaurant to keep off the chill. They walked down the street in easy silence, crossing the block.

D'Artagnan felt completely and utterly happy, a feeling of contentment he had never thought he would experience again settled deep inside his bones and it showed on the soft smile that stayed on his lips as he walked. Athos was glad to find no trace of the wistful sadness or the melancholic bitterness or worst of all the distrust which had so frequently made itself known when he had first started living with them. The kid was getting better, and once he started school and was around people his own age, Athos was sure it would do even more good.

The duo kept walking, Athos commenting on random things every now and then and d'Artagnan simply agreeing happily. Athos had just decided that they should probably turn back when a commotion down one of the alleyways caught his attention. A couple of young boys were clutching each other helplessly staring with wide frightened eyes at the big man who had a gun pointed at them. Athos clenched his fists angrily and started making his way towards them.

"Thos no!" a hand grabbed Athos's arm tight enough to bruise and Athos stopped in his tracks. He turned to find d'Artagnan staring at him fearfully with wide eyes. "Please, let's just go."

He extracted his arm from the deathly grasp, and nodded, "This won't take more than a minute. Don't worry, I'll be fine."

Ignoring the protesting look on the younger man's face he turned around and walked down the alley to the man with the gun who had his back towards him. "Hey asshole!" he called out, causing the man to turn away from the couple who remained too rooted in fear to run. "Pick on someone your own size, you spineless dick."

A low growl sounded from the big man who towered above Athos. "Mind your own business, shithead. This doesn't concern you."

"Oh, that's exactly where you are wrong." Athos waited until the gun was pointing at him before lashing out, grabbing it and turning it away, kneed the man hard in the stomach and punched him in the face as he went down.

A shot rang out, an instinctive pull of the trigger but the bullet did not hit anything. Athos had made sure the gun had been pointing away. He picked up the gun from the slack grip of the moaning man and hit him on the head with hard enough to knock him out cold. Athos turned towards the couple, and asking if they were alright, gestured for them to get out of there. He then took out his phone and dialed the police relaying his address and telling them to expect a drunken, knocked out mugger lying in the street.

He put the phone back in his pocket and made his way back to where he had left d'Artagnan. The boy stood rooted to the ground, eyes wide and unfocussed and body trembling slightly. Athos frowned at the look on his face. He reached out with a hand intending to touch the younger man's shoulder.

The boy flinched and closed his eyes. Athos froze.

"D'Art?"

The boy started shaking uncontrollably and Athos reached out again, alarmed at the sudden change in behavior. D'Artagnan pushed him away with so much force that Athos almost lost his footing. "Get away from me!"

There was a look of wild panic on the young face, twisting the boy's features into a grotesque expression of unadulterated fear. It was an expression Athos never wanted to see on his face again.

He didn't know what to do so he stayed back, raising up his hands. "D'Art, please, it's me." He spoke softly, soothingly. "What's wrong? Talk to me."

Slowly, d'Artagnan eyes focused on Athos and recognition seemed to flicker across his face. He stared at the older man, a sob escaping from his lips. Athos immediately closed the distance between them, pulling the deflating boy into a tight hug. "Hush, hush, it's okay. It's okay. I've got you."

Sobs racked the kid's body as he buried his face into Athos' chest. Athos rocked them back and forth, whispering calming things in his ear, even though he had no idea what had brought on this panic attack.

It was several minutes before the sobs subsided and d'Artagnan's breathing evened out. "Alright?" Athos asked softly, his chin resting on the younger boy's head. He felt the kid nod and slowly stepped back so that he could see him.

He wanted to ask but he thought better of it when he saw the still slightly off balance look in d'Artagnan's eyes. "Come on, let's go home."

They walked back slowly, Athos keeping a hand around d'Artagnan's shoulders throughout, and it was a very quiet duo who returned back to the house. Athos helped him out of the coat and led him to one of the couches before making him sit. He went into the kitchen and fixed up a hot chocolate in record timing wanting to get back to the boy as soon as possible. Glass in hand he walked back out to find d'Artagnan sitting with his legs on the couch, his chin resting on his knees, his arms around them, hugging himself. Athos kept the glass on the table in front of him and sat beside him in the sofa.

They sat quietly for several minutes, Athos knowing that d'Artagnan would talk only when he wanted to. Sure enough, a few minutes later the boy spoke, his voice raw and broken.

"I'm sorry."

Athos put a hand on the kid's back. "Don't be. It's okay." He rubbed soothing circles on his back. "Do you want to talk about it?"

D'Artagnan started to shake his head automatically before stopping and turning to look at Athos. Athos met his gaze steadily, recognizing this to be the same quiet scrutiny d'Artagnan had stared at him with in the first few weeks. After several tense seconds, d'Artagnan nodded and closed his eyes. Athos leaned forward and picked up the glass from the table.

It was still hot. He held it out to the boy who took it after a moment's hesitation. He took a small sip before taking a longer one and putting the glass back down. Athos smiled at the white frothy mustache the kid was unaware he was sporting.

D'Artagnan took a deep breath and Athos sobered up. "When I was thirteen, I was walking back home with my dad. It had been a great day, we had hung out on the park with a couple of my friends and played catch before having pizza. Dad had seemed to like my friends and I was feeling great. It was getting dark and I suggested we take a shortcut I had found a few days ago while cycling." D'Artagnan looked at Athos, his eyes tearing up. "If only I hadn't said that…"

Athos squeezed his knee quietly and d'Artagnan wiped at his eyes before continuing. "We were stopped by this man, a big dangerous looking. He had a wild look in his eyes, as if he was high on something and he pulled out a gun demanding that dad give him his wallet. Dad tried to calm him down, he was waving the gun around. 'Son,' dad called him, 'keep that thing away and we can talk.' He started screaming then, telling dad to empty out his pockets and give him his wallet. Dad nodded and reached inside his coat to get his wallet. That must have spooked the man or something because the next thing I know is that there is a loud noise and my ears are ringing and the man is nowhere to be found and my dad is sprawled out on the ground lying in a puddle of his own blood, blood oozing from his chest…"

D'Artagnan broke off, and a sob escaped. The tears were streaming steadily down his face but Athos didn't think the kid knew he was crying. His heart clenched painfully in his chest as he recalled what had happened in the alleyway earlier.

D'Artagnan looked at him, his eyes begging for him to understand. "When you walked up to that man, and there was that gunshot and… and after having another great day, I just… it was –"

Athos wordlessly pulled the rambling boy into another hug, his own breath quickening at how much of an idiot he had been. His actions had brought back such a painful memory for the boy, but that hadn't been what had brought about the panic attack. The kid had been terrified for _him_, scared that he would lose him too.

He tightened his grip around the boy who had remained rigid for a second before relaxing into his hold. Athos' hand found its way to d'Artagnan's dark hair and Athos closed his eyes. The thought of losing the kid was too much for him to bear and if d'Artagnan felt anywhere near as strongly about him, then he must have been terrified.

"Son, I'm not going anywhere," Athos said. "You are never going to lose me."

He felt more than saw d'Artagnan shake his head, his voice muffled when he spoke, "Promise?"

"I promise." Athos wasn't one to make empty promises. If he gave his word about something he stood by it no matter what happened. D'Artagnan must have realized that about him by now because he pulled out of the hug and gave the other man a small smile.

Athos smiled back, relieved that the message had been received loud and clear. D'Artagnan picked up the glass of hot chocolate again and drained the rest in one gulp wiping his mouth at the back of his hand.

"I'm sorry I spoiled a good day."

Athos groaned. "I swear we should have a rule around the house about incessant sorrys and thankyous." He ruffled d'Artagnan's hair who tried to move away to escape him. "At this rate, you'll drive even patient souls like us up the wall." He grinned before turning somber. "There is nothing to be sorry for. Thank you for telling me about your father. I'm sure he will be very proud of you if he saw you right now."

D'Artagnan looked at him with such gratitude and _love_ at the statement that Athos' breath hitched. He had never been on the receiving end of such an intense gaze before. He cleared his throat and spoke, his voice gruff with emotion. "Now go on, get out of that shirt before you ruin it completely."

D'Artagnan nodded before looking pointedly at Athos' own shirt. It _was_ completely ruined with wet stains on the front where d'Artagnan's tears had soaked through. "You're one to talk." He grinned before picking up the glass and dodging the cushion that Athos threw easily, walked away to the kitchen. Athos leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes.

There were a lot of things which could make a liar out of him and make him break his word, the foremost on the list being the looming threat of the uncle's custodial rights of the boy. Soon, he decided, soon he would get d'Artagnan to sign the adoption papers.

Then no judge, jury or even God himself would be able to take d'Artagnan away from the comfort and safety of Athos' house.

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_If you can tell me what you think, I'm not saying this lightly, I swear it makes me write faster. :D A review is like an endorphin rush, the fingers start flying over the keyboard._


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Am I the only one who wishes we could have seen Athos with a baby?  
**Warnings**: Some smut. Lots of fluff. Really you might just die from the sweetness. A lot of people think things will go bad. They will, but like I said I get to actual plottty things and then i end up writing cheesy stuff like this... I'm sorry. At least I'm writing this so fast that updating is fairly regular.  
Greatly indebted for all the love by the way. Makes me feel soooooooo happy.

* * *

Chapter 7:

"Get up, get up, get up!" Aramis pounded on d'Artagnan's door at six o clock in the morning. "You don't want to be late, do you?"

Athos opened the door to his room and stepped out, glaring blearily at Aramis. "He doesn't have to go and clean the school first, let him sleep for a while longer."

Before Aramis could reply the door to d'Artagnan's room opened and he stepped out fully dressed. Athos stared at him, managing to look sufficiently surprised to make the boy blush while Aramis beamed.

"I couldn't sleep, I've been awake for a while now," d'Artagnan admitted. Aramis clamped a hand on his shoulder and led him out to the hall.

"Well then my lad, let's get some breakfast in you before we break out the camera."

"What?" d'Artagnan turned towards him, incredulous. "Tell me you're not thinking of taking pictures." Aramis simply chuckled in response. "You know, I have been to school before. This isn't actually my first day."

"Oh hush you!" Aramis chided, lightly cuffing him on the back of his head. "Don't be a spoilsport."

"No, no no," d'Artagnan said firmly, pulling away. "Athos tell him this isn't happening," he asked the man who had just waved a hand dismissively without looking at the pair and walked into the kitchen. Aramis grinned and sat d'Artagnan down at a stool on the counter, and d'Artagnan was hit by all the smells.

Porthos was busy cooking, humming quietly to himself. He turned to give Aramis who had walked up to him a peck on the mouth before flipping the pancake that was frying. D'Artagnan looked around, getting mildly sick. There were omelets and pancakes and toast and sausages and it looked like Porthos had cooked an entire month's worth of breakfast.

"Umm guys?" he asked hesitantly. "Are we expecting an army to drop by?"

Porthos carefully transferred the pancake to a plate already piled high with them and added it to the display on the counter. He chuckled and Aramis grinned. "He doesn't learn does he?" he asked talking to Aramis.

D'Artagnan groaned and turned towards Athos who sat down on the stool beside him. Athos saw the panicked expression on the boy's face and smiled. "Just eat," he said his voice low enough that only d'Artagnan can hear. "Porthos cooks to calm his nerves."

D'Artagnan glanced at the man in question. Porthos was getting another two slices of bread from the toaster and as d'Artagnan watched he pinched Aramis' bum when the latter tried to steal the slices. D'Artagnan looked at Athos a silent eyebrow raised in question. Athos helped himself to a pancake and poured some maple syrup on it. "He has been steadily freaking out about you going to school since yesterday."

D'Artagnan nodded and dug in, his own stomach in knots. He was touched that the older man cared enough to be nervous but was too anxious himself to eat too much.

"Right," Aramis said, sitting at a stool across d'Artagnan. "Don't steal away all the guys' girlfriends on the first day itself." He helped himself to a pancake before shaking fork at d'Artagnan who rolled his eyes. "The boys won't appreciate that. Just settle for five or six at the maximum."

"And if any of those empty headed jocks who think they are better than everyone else try and give you any trouble, aim for the groin," Porthos added.

"No one's going to give you any trouble. The school has strict standards on such things." Athos narrowed his eyes at the other two sitting across from them. He turned to d'Artagnan and took out a letter. "Find the principal and give this to him. I've already called him and told him about the two years you've missed. He'll give you your class schedule and anything else that you need."

D'Artagnan nodded and took the letter silently. After pushing down a slice of toast on threat of being force fed by Porthos, he found himself being manhandled into position by Aramis, who had gotten a ridiculously large camera from somewhere and was fixing up the protesting teenager's hair. D'Artagnan looked around for Athos to ask him to rescue him but the lawyer had gone inside to get ready, so that he could drop d'Artagnan off on his way to the office.

"Right, now say 'cheese!'" Aramis called out, and d'Artagnan glared as the flash from the camera blinded him for a second. "Athos, hurry up!" Aramis called over his shoulder.

Athos came out, ready in his three piece suit, carrying his briefcase in one hand and d'Artagnan's bag in the other. "Aramis let the lad go. You'll make him late."

Aramis gestured for Porthos to grab Athos, unwilling to release d'Artagnan from the deathly grip he had around his shoulders so that the young man couldn't act on his plan of hiding behind Athos. "Shut up and come here Athos."

The four of them stood together, staring at the camera on automatic setting and watched the light blink rapidly in countdown as the picture was taken. D'Artagnan wiped off the scowl from his face and smiled at the last second, causing Aramis to grin happily.

D'Artagnan walked over to the camera and picking it up, clicked a photo of Porthos and Aramis, the former with his arm around the shorter man's waist, with Aramis eyes tilted towards his lover, and Porthos staring into his eyes, mumbling something softly causing Aramis to smile widely. They made the perfect picture of a happy couple and d'Artagnan grinned at them cheekily when they looked at him, surprised by the flash. "That one's for me."

Athos rolled his eyes and checked his watch with a pointed cough. D'Artagnan took his bag from the older man and putting on his sneakers followed him to the Audi outside.

The drive was short and not really necessary: d'Artagnan could have easily walked to the school which was only a few blocks away, but Athos had insisted and there wasn't anything d'Artagnan refused the lawyer.

Sure enough after only a few minutes of driving, Athos was stopping the car. He turned to the boy and stopped him from getting out with a hand on his shoulder. "Wait," he said before looking through his pockets. He took out a key on a silver keychain and held it out towards d'Artagnan. "This is yours. I'll try to stop by the house in the afternoon but you can let yourself in if I'm not there."

D'Artagnan looked at the offered key and then at the older man. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Whenever he thought that he was sure of where he stood with Athos, the man went and did something like this. It was like he was determined to tear down every wall that d'Artagnan had constructed and hid behind during two of the worst years of his life.

Athos seemed to understand the unspoken million _thankyous_ because he nodded and cleared his throat. "Go on now, have fun." He gave the teenager a little push and d'Artagnan got out of the door smiling.

The school was a long double storey building with similar ones on either side, enclosing a grassy field within, with a parking lot to the side. There were a lot of kids standing around, talking to their friends in small groups of threes or fours. School hasn't started yet which d'Artagnan supposed was a good thing, it would give him enough time to talk to the principal and get to his first period in time.

Taking a deep breath, he walked forwards.

XXX

Aramis was reading the file on his desk. He was most definitely not stealing glances at the way Porthos was sucking the end of a pencil propped between his teeth, his tongue glistening through every now and then, a little bit of saliva making his lips shine invitingly.

No Aramis was most definitely _not_ staring.

Well, maybe a little.

Treville had assigned the same case to both of them, giving them a rare chance to work together and they were going over the piles of files that the case entailed in Porthos' office.

At least Porthos was, his eyes not leaving the file in his hand, sitting across Aramis with the desk between them. Aramis was trying very hard to concentrate on anything _other_ than the hard on he was trying to ignore.

Porthos sucked in his cheeks, holding the pencil still and stretched his hands behind his head, the shirt going taut over his defined shoulders and chest. He had taken off the coat a long time ago and had even rolled up his sleeves. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and brought it down to pop open his collar button. The fingers continued slowly downwards opening another, and then another.

A low feral growl escaped Aramis' lips.

Porthos looked up at the man and grinned. "Took you long enough, I was starting to feel neglected."

"I'll show you how ridiculous that statement is if you lock the door and close the blinds," Aramis managed to grit out. He shifted a little as Porthos got up to do as he had said, and when the larger man turned back from drawing the blinds, he found a very undone Aramis attack his lips hungrily.

Porthos moaned, fighting for dominance for a moment before giving in and letting the other man completely ravish his mouth. He had after all been giving all the _come hither_ signals to his boyfriend for the past hour.

Aramis' tongue was both hot and wild as he kissed Porthos furiously, moaning into his mouth when the other man slipped a thigh between his legs. He rubbed himself against the leg shamelessly, hands undoing more buttons and pulling the shirt out of Porthos' pants before fumbling at the flier.

He was too much of a wreck to continue though and it was Porthos who pushed him back with one hand on his chest until the back of his knees hit the desk and he leaned back. "How would you like me to fuck you on this desk?" Porthos whispered in his tear while undoing his pants. "Bend you over and pound into you so _hard_ that your screams tell the whole office exactly how _thoroughly_ we are investigating the case?"

Aramis moaned, head thrown back, his rock hard cock throbbing almost painfully with arousal. "Oh God, Porthos…"

"Just Porthos darling, no need to be so formal."

Aramis scowled at him, the message clear. _Too much talking and too less fucking._

Porthos laughed at the wanton look in his lover's eyes before undoing Aramis' flier and pulling the boxers down enough to give him access to his cock. He took the hard member in his hand and Aramis arched his back.

"P'thos." Aramis whispered, completely shattered. Porthos grinned at the soft mewl, the sound going straight to his own cock. He made a fist around Aramis' cock and squeezed.

Aramis gasped, stars erupting in his vision and closed his eyes. "Fuck, God…"

"Now that is blasphemy love," he said taking his own cock out with his free hand and lined the two up. His hand stroked both their lengths together, not quite fitting around them both and Aramis thrust into his grasp, his lips in such a kissable pout at not getting enough friction that Porthos closed the distance between them while his hand continued its work. The kiss was so full of unbridled desire and _need_ that Porthos could feel his knees going weak. He leaned against Aramis who was pushed back on the desk, his hand not stopping for a single second and kissed him again. It was all too soon before Aramis' needy keen broke the kiss and he came, the pulse of his cock against Porthos' setting off his orgasm as well. Both of them came together, head thrown back and Porthos sagged on top of Aramis for a moment of utter _bliss_.

He came to himself by a pounding on the door. Porthos looked at the mess in horror, mind unable to come up with what to do to avoid getting caught literally with his pants down. He looked at Aramis in panic, but Aramis was already reaching out for the tissues. The man worked swiftly, cleaning up both of them before tucking himself back into his pants and zipping them up and Porthos did the same. Both their pants were black so the slight stains weren't evident but Porthos' shirt was a light blue. A light blue which had a dark stain _right_ in the front. Aramis threw Porthos his coat and waited a beat to collect himself before opening the door.

A very unamused Athos stood outside, his hand raised to knock again. He pushed past Aramis without comment and walked in the room a file in hand. "The police have caught this guy for illegal trespassing on private property. They suspect however that he has several robberies and a couple of murders under his belt and we need to nail them on him. There's a time frame so this needs to be done fast."

"But we were going to pick d'Art from school," Aramis protested closing the door.

"No, we aren't. I left him a text explaining that we wouldn't be home till later." Athos handed each of them the files.

"Gaudet de Lark, previously incarcerated twice for DUI and suspected of twenty counts of robbery and two counts of murder." Porthos looked at the attached picture. "He is quite the looker too."

Athos nodded. "I'm going to talk to the lead detective on the case. I'm pulling you two to work on this. We need this guy, boys. So focus please." He started walking out, before pausing at the door. "Aramis I would advise you to invest in an air freshener. It would prove to be useful."

Aramis opened his eyes to comment but with a backward smirk, Athos was already gone. He turned to his boyfriend who smiled. "He has a point, you know," Porthos commented. "The room does smell like as if someone just had a thorough shag."

Aramis' cock twitched at the glint in Porthos' eyes but he mentally slapped himself. They had work to do.

XXX

D'Artagnan was more than a little lost. The teacher kept talking about things like the cosine rule and finding unknown angles and it all sounded a little like Greek to him. He had not had a problem with the first three periods on the schedule the principal had handed him after reading the letter and nodding. Physics had been fun, d'Artagnan understanding most of what the quirky Professor Charles was teaching and he had enjoyed himself thoroughly in History which followed. The novelty of being in a classroom again had kept d'Artagnan from answering all the questions that Miss Fitz asked. That and the very _very_ pretty girl sitting in the row in front of him.

She had auburn lustrous hair that mesmerized d'Artagnan when they caught the sun, contrasted beautifully with her pale skin and set off her dark eyes. She was wearing a full sleeved top with dark blue jeans and d'Artagnan thought she was the loveliest girl he had ever seen.

But now during math he was struggling to understand what exactly the sour faced Mr. Garhead was talking about. The other children seemed to be perfectly aware of what the lesson was supposed to be and most of them had started on the exercises. He looked down at his textbook. He was supposed to finish an entire section of questions that he couldn't even read properly.

"You seem frightfully oblivious." A soft voice from behind caused d'Artagnan to turn. It was the pretty girl from history class. He managed a smile and pointed at his textbook.

"Oh no, I just didn't realize they teach Greek here." He smiled at her very unladylike snort of amusement.

"It's not very hard. Here, I'll show you." She took the pencil from his hand and drew a right angled triangle on the paper. "See, this side here? It's called the hypotenuse…"

The rest of the lesson was spent in considerably less agony. D'Artagnan wasn't quite sure he had understood everything the girl had tried to teach him but he did know one thing: he was completely and incredibly in love.

He was in love with the way a dimple appeared on only one cheek every time she smiled, and the way her eyes sparkled when d'Artagnan got a question right and the way she scrunched up her nose when he made a mistake and the way that unruly strands of red curls kept falling to her face and she kept pushing them behind her ear with the pencil.

He was in a daze when the bell rang signaling an end to the period and the start of recess. She started packing her things away, and slung her bag on one shoulder. D'Artagnan was shaken back to reality when she started walking away.

This was the woman of his dreams walking out of the door and he hadn't even asked her name.

"Wait uhh… ma'am!" he called out, hoping she would listen.

She turned to him in surprise. "Ma'am? Really? That is so 1600s." She grinned at his expression. "Constance, my name's Constance." She held out a hand and he shook it, hoping his palms weren't too clammy.

"It's nice to meet you, Constance. I'm d'Artagnan," he said smiling lopsidedly. "I'm kind of new here, so walk with me to the lunch hall?"

Constance looked hesitant for a second before nodding, "Sure."

"So you live around here?" d'Artagnan asked.

"Oh no, my house is quite a drive away from here. It's just that all five of my brothers had studied from this school. We used to live in the area once, and mother wants me to study here too. What about you?"

"My house is just a few blocks away. I live with… my uncles."

Constance must have noticed his hesitation and asked, "So your parents…?"

D'Artagnan sighed. "Mom died when I was a kid and my father passed away a couple of years ago."

"I'm so sorry." She put a hand on his arm in support and one look at the earnest eyes had d'Artagnan smiling at her.

"It's okay. I just… haven't been asked that since my father's death."

"Right," Constance nodded in understanding. "By the way that staircase there leads to the library and that door is the nurse's office," she added pointing to each. "Which one are you to go to first?"

D'Artagnan looked confused and she explained. "New kids always end up in one of the two places. Either they find the classes too tough and run to the library, or they get into trouble and end up in the nurse's clinic. So which one will it be for you?"

D'Artagnan raised his eyebrows and made a little bow. "I am glad to learn that you have lofty expectations from me."

Constance smiled and punched his arm lightly. "I'm not being mean. It's a fact. Ask anyone."

They arrived at the cafeteria which was packed with students. D'Artagnan stopped for a moment, analyzing people and groups and exits automatically before Constance nudged him from behind. "Come on, hurry up and get something."

Athos had given him enough money that he could afford to buy anything on the menu but the large breakfast Porthos had cooked and Aramis had taken pleasure in shoving down his throat did not leave d'Artagnan with much of an appetite. He settled for an apple and a juice.

He was waiting for Constance to complete her order when he felt a large hand clamp down on his shoulder. He tensed up instinctively, and it was only luck that Constance had handed him the tray of food she had gotten, so he didn't shrug out of the grasp immediately and attack the person.

Instead he turned slowly, taking subtle deep breathes to calm himself and saw a tall pale boy with long hair standing behind him. The boy did not let go of his shoulder and d'Artagnan raised an enquiring eyebrow.

The boy did not look particularly friendly.

Constance turned the rest of her meal in hand and saw the boy. "Oh, there you are." She looked between the two boys who were staring at each other. "Bonacieux, this is d'Artagnan. We have History and math together. He's new."

Bonacieux let go his shoulder and held out a hand which d'Artagnan shook fully expecting the bone crushing grip. He did not even flinch however and applied some force of his own, causing a small frown to appear on Bonacieux's face. "D'Artagnan nice to meet you. I'm Bonacieux, and Constance and I are together in… every sense of the word." the unctuous tone and the not so subtle hint were not lost on d'Artagnan and he shrugged.

"Likewise," he said, deliberately not elaborating.

"So love, I see you've gotten your food? Let's go to our table." Bonacieux said to Constance, who felt the awkwardness of the situation and shot a smile at d'Artagnan.

"You're welcome to join us if you like," she said brightly.

"Yes, you're _very_ welcome to join us." Bonacieux repeated, his tone suggesting that d'Artagnan better not join them. D'Artagnan smiled.

He wasn't intimidated by the older teenager in the slightest. Rather he found his attempts at appearing frightening and imposing to be quite hilarious. The kind of people he had rubbed shoulders with on a daily basis on the streets, Bonacieux did not hold a candle to any of them.

Still Porthos had told him to stay clear of jerks who thought they were better than anyone else and he did not want to get into a fight on his first day so he shook his head.

"I think I'm good. I'll see you later." He waved at the girl and she smiled back at him and walked away following Bonacieux to one of the larger tables in the middle of the cafeteria full of people. D'Artagnan's heart clenched painfully as he saw her walk away. Why did all the pretty girls have to go out with all the jerks?

He sighed and shook his head, confused at how things worked in the world.

It was a very tired trio of lawyers that trudged back home. Athos had been too exhausted to drive, having been doing that most of the day going back and forth the police station and the office, working the case. He had left his Audi in the parking lot and decided instead to get a ride with Aramis and Porthos. The couple were also uncharacteristically silent, the lack of the usual banter lulling Athos into a light sleep. He was nudged awake by Aramis when they reached the house.

It was very late and they expected d'Artagnan to have gone to bed already, but the teenager was waiting up, sprawled out on the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table, flickering though channels. He jumped up when he heard them enter and hurried to get their briefcases and coats.

"I ordered pizza for everyone, you guys look like you can use some food." D'Artagnan frowned taking in the exhaustion etched on all their faces. Aramis' brightened considerably at the mention of food but Athos shook his head.

"I think I'll just get to bed."

D'Artagnan's face fell slightly. "But I ordered your favorite...," he trailed off looking so despondent that Athos groaned and nodded relenting. The huge grin on the kid's face brought a small smile to the older man's face and smiling at his antics he went and sat at the table.

"So how was the first day?" Porthos asked, going into the kitchen to help d'Artagnan heat up the pizza.

"Oh, it was great!" d'Artagnan's enthusiastic reply carried out to the hall and both Aramis and Athos grinned. "It was incredible, being in a classroom again, and the teachers are all great. I got some work to do but I finished that off as soon as I reached home. I think I'll have to work a little to catch up in the math class, otherwise it wasn't all that hard."

He hadn't stopped talking while setting the table and bringing out the pizza from the microwave and sitting down. Had it been anyone else chatting constantly with so much excitement, the tired lawyers would have told them to shut up. But instead of finding the unlimited energy and exuberance annoying they found themselves enjoying this new excited talkative side of their young friend.

"You make any friends?" Aramis asked helping himself to a slice after passing the box to everyone else.

D'Artagnan nodded. "Oh yes, there was this girl, Constance. She's great, we are in Math, History and Art together. She helped me out a little in Trigonometry and even showed me around."

Aramis looked gleefully at Porthos and Athos. "It looks like our little puppy has found a lady friend!"

Athos rolled his eyes and Porthos nodded sagely while d'Artagnan blushed. "It's not like that," he mumbled not meeting their eyes.

Athos put down the slice he was holding and looked at him. So it was exactly like that. But something on the kid's face told the older man that not everything was okay. "So you don't think she's the prettiest girl you've laid eyes upon?"

"I… do," d'Artagnan was still not looking at him.

"Then what is the matter?" Porthos asked, his voice soft. The boy was starting to look like a wounded puppy.

"She already has a boyfriend. A douchebag named Bonacieux."

Athos sighed and Porthos patted d'Artagnan's arm sympathetically.

Aramis cuffed him on the back of his head. Quite hard.

Athos frowned at the man and d'Artagnan looked at him, startled.

"God, the way you say it, you make it sound like as if she's married to the jerk." Aramis paused as if in thought. "Though nowadays that wouldn't make much of a difference either." He got back to the point at Athos' pointed throat clearing. "All you need to do is show her you're the better catch and she'll dump this Bonacieux fellow so hard he wouldn't know what hit him."

"But won't that be fair?" d'Artagnan asked, surprised.

"Nothing's fair in love and war, my boy," Aramis said, nodding sagely. D'Artagnan looked unsurely at Athos.

Athos got up to get a bottle of wine and returned along with for glasses. "Aramis has a point. You seem obviously interested in her." D'Artagnan nodded in agreement. "And hiding that interest and pretending there's nothing won't be fair on both of you." He poured some wine in each of the glasses and passed them around the table.

"A toast then?" Athos said, raising his glass and looking at d'Artagnan with a smile. Porthos and Aramis raised theirs too, and after a second's hesitation, d'Artagnan followed. "To a successful first day of school for young d'Art and his first foray into the matters of the heart. May it prove to be an exciting and fruitful adventure for you son."

D'Artagnan blushed and smiled and Porthos grinned. "I'll drink to that."

All of them drained their glasses and Athos refilled Porthos', Aramis' and his own. The talk continued on to what d'Artagnan was doing in each subject; which was his favorite, Athos wasn't surprised the answer was history; and whether he needed extra help, Aramis had suggested a tutor and d'Artagnan had refused though Athos made up his mind to talk to the boy privately about getting one anyway.

By the time they got around to bed, after clearing away the table and washing the plates, it was quite late. But Athos found that he didn't mind at all when he reached his room after wishing d'Artagnan good night and setting the alarm.

He drifted off, and in what felt like ages his dreams were not of blood and death and carnage.

Instead, there was family and warmth and _love_ and d'Artagnan.

* * *

_So there. Did you get diabetes yet?_ :)


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8:

Aramis groaned and d'Artagnan looked at him in surprise.

"Porthos texted. Athos wants a file delivered nearby to where we are going," Aramis explained. "We'll have to make a pit stop at the office and then continue on."

It was a cold Thursday afternoon and Aramis had picked d'Artagnan up from school, the latter having agreed to help pick out the perfect birthday present for Porthos. D'Artagnan hadn't been able to resist the intense earnest look that Porthos had warned him about – 'The Stare has ruined so many ladies and started so many things, it should be listed as a dangerous weapon' – and despite the very healthy amount of residual fear from his last shopping trip with Aramis, he had relented.

Besides he also had to pick up a gift for Porthos. He had been saving up the money that Athos gave him weekly, having absolutely no use for it other than buying a sandwich or something in school every day. There was still a large amount leftover every week. He had tried to tell Athos that, but the older man had just grinned and told him to get his lady friend something or the other.

D'Artagnan sighed at the memory. Constance wasn't so much his lady friend as she was a very good friend who helped him out when he got lost; a week in and he still hadn't gotten used to the long corridors of the school; and whom he helped learn for the history quizzes. She was good at Math, he had a head for History: it was a mutually beneficial friendship. That did not stop the funny feeling he got in his stomach every time he saw her or how he felt his knees going slightly weak every time she smiled at him, but yeah… She was still going out with Bonacieux.

"Oh, can I go in too?" d'Artagnan asked, eager to see where his friends worked.

Aramis brightened at that. "You haven't seen the office? Then today can be doubly educative."

The man had a glint in his eye that d'Artagnan absolutely did not like. "What do you mean by _doubly_ educative?" he asked tentatively. But Aramis just grinned and switched on the radio. D'Artagnan settled back, knowing that he wouldn't get any answers out of the lawyer. He had told him once, when d'Artagnan had wondered at their ability to change topics and dodge questions, that all three of them had undergone something called anti-interrogation training in the army. D'Artagnan had looked it up on the internet and what he had learned had kind of freaked him out until Athos had sat him down after having a shouting match with Aramis, and told him that everything on the net about special forces training was bullshit and their training, though severe had not had any dangerous effects on their psych apart from strengthening their will.

It did not fail to surprise him how these men had left the horrors of the military behind, and though he could sometimes see the signs, a comforting hand that Aramis kept on Porthos on some mornings, or how Athos really did not like the shooting games that were all the rage nowadays; they did not let what they had seen and even done, dictate their lives. They had left the army behind, Athos flippantly stating that they hadn't actually been able to put away bad guys half the time because of the red tape involved so they had crossed over and joined those who made all these laws and rules when they realized they couldn't fight them.

"Here we are!" Aramis' enthusiastic exclamation brought d'Artagnan back from his musings. The car had stopped in front of a large office building with tinted windows and Aramis got out, d'Artagnan following a second later.

"This, young man, is where the hand of justice does its magic," Aramis said with a grand wave towards the building and d'Artagnan smiled.

The duo went in, the security guard waving at Aramis who pointed at d'Artagnan and made a 'he's with me' gesture. At least that's what d'Artagnan assumed it meant. Sometimes he had difficulty understanding his friends' elaborate gestures. It did not fail to surprise him how all three could reduce an entire statement into a series of twisted hand signals. Porthos had told him it was an army thing. He had rolled his eyes. _Of course_ it was.

Aramis pressed the button for the top floor as soon as they got into the elevator and d'Artagnan was surprised at the large number of people going around doing their work when they arrived at their destination. The elevator opened into a large space which was divided into cubicles, each with a desk and computer. There were several corridors leading from the main space and it was to one of these that Aramis took him, a firm hand on his elbow, weaving through the lawyers rushing around with paper and files and coffee.

"That was the main work place for the lawyers who are good enough to be all the way up here. Porthos, Athos and myself have offices though." Aramis explained. "Mine and Athos' is this way, Porthos' is on the opposite side of the floor."

D'Artagnan smiled. The DA must be a smart man to put the couple on opposite ends of the hall; otherwise he supposed they wouldn't have gotten much work done. Aramis noticed his smile and grinned evilly.

"Oh what the DA must never know is that we have found our way around that fact. There a few places where no one bothers to look in, and once Porthos took me to this closet which was buried so deep in the filing room that…"

D'Artagnan cut him off pointing at a random door and asking loudly, "Where does that one go?"

Aramis smirked. "That's the kitchen thing. No one uses it except to make coffee. Well no one except -"

"Hey Aramis, can you come here a moment?" A loud voice cut off Aramis in mid speech and he turned to see a middle aged man gesturing for him to come over. "Theirs is this thing in the report you wrote about the McHill case."

Aramis groaned and turned to d'Artagnan. "Go and tell Athos I'll be there in a minute. I need to see what this man needs." He hurried away before d'Artagnan could stop him. How was he supposed to know where Athos' office was?

He continued on down the corridor, Aramis had been leading him this way, so it was probably further down. He was trying to read the names on the doors and did not see the man until he had almost ran into him causing the stack of papers he had been holding to fall and scatter all over the place.

"Oh I'm sorry, I'm _so_ sorry, let me help…" d'Artagnan crouched down immediately, gathering up the papers before straightening and handing the stack back to the man.

He was a stern faced middle aged man with a receding hairline though his hair were a jet black. He had a sparse goatee at the chin along with a moustache and he looked at d'Artagnan, an expression of distant disapproval making the boy uneasy.

"I'm sorry sir, I wasn't looking where I was going," d'Artagnan apologized again but the man waved it off.

"There's no need for that. Though I would like to know what exactly is it that you were looking for instead?"

"Uh, I was reading the nameplates. I need to find Athos' office."

There was a small smile and a look of realization passed over the older man's face. "So you must be Athos' boy."

D'Artagnan was a little miffed at the familiarity and the term but did not let his annoyance show. He did not know who this man was and it would not do to show disrespect. Instead he held out a hand. "My name is d'Artagnan."

The man smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners and his face softening considerably and he shook his hand. "I'm Treville. Athos is on a lower floor… conferring with another lawyer right now. You can wait for him in his office. It's the last one down the hall."

D'Artagnan nodded and gulped slightly as with one last nod, Treville walked away. So this was the infamous Treville the three friends kept talking about: they seemed to have a healthy dose of both respect and fear for the DA and d'Artagnan thanked his luck that he hadn't gone off running his mouth with Athos' boss.

He hurried to where the DA had told him the office was, coming to a stop at a desk with a young man situated behind it. He was typing away at the computer and looked up at d'Artagnan, his gaze taking in the jeans and shirt with a nice warm leather jacket that was a little worn out on account of being Athos' first, but that d'Artagnan loved and wore everywhere; thrown over and he smiled haughtily. "May I help you?"

"Yes, I'm looking for Athos' office."

"What work could you possibly have with him?" the disdain was evident in the secretary's tone and d'Artagnan sighed.

"Look, Treville told me the last office was his and Aramis isn't going to be back for a while. Now if I wait in the hall for either of the two of them to return, both are going to be very very angry at you," he paused, noticing the slight frown that dropping Treville's and Aramis' name had had on the man. "So if you don't mind, I'm going in."

He did not wait for the man to respond as he walked past and opened the door. The office was a large room with glass windows taking up most of the space on the main wall. It was tastefully decorated with a dark desk to one side, a black plush sofa set with a small coffee table on another with a bookshelf with several law volumes covering the wall behind it. There was a small LCD fixed to the wall opposite the coffee table wall but what drew d'Artagnan's attention was the long shelf, behind the desk just below the windows, dotted with trophies and framed photographs. He crossed the room and walked over, studying the smiling faces in the pictures.

There was a young couple in one, probably Athos' parents as the man can be seen a little older, with Athos in another picture. There were several of Porthos, Aramis and Athos together, in their black graduation coats holding their degrees with proud smiles on their faces, dressed in their military greens squinting in the sun or smiling at the camera in what looked to be a strip club. It was as if their lives were chronicled in a series of photographs and d'Artagnan found himself marveling again at how many years these people had known each other for.

The photo in the middle was one that d'Artagnan picked up reverently. It was one with Aramis shoving a huge piece of cake into d'Artagnan's mouth. Athos had his head thrown back in laughter and d'Artagnan had an expression of mild horror etched on his face. D'Artagnan remembered it as the day Aramis and Porthos had returned from London armed with a huge cake having missed his birthday. Aramis had been apologetic and had made up for it by making d'Artagnan eat most of the admittedly delicious cake, going so far as to shove it down his throat, as the picture showed. Porthos was the only one not in it, having been the one to click it. D'Artagnan smiled at the memory but placed it back down when he heard voices outside the door.

"What do you mean, you _tried_ to stop him?" Athos' voice filtered through the door. "If I open the door and find out that you have let a random person in my office, I won't be happy. If I find out that you tried to stop d'Artagnan from entering my office, I won't be happy. So if I were you, I would get the hell away from here fast."

D'Artagnan frowned slightly at the man when he opened the door. "That hardly seems fair."

Athos simply smiled at the boy in greeting and closed the door behind him. "I know, I won't do anything to the poor sod. I just like to keep him on his toes." He grinned, balancing a large number of files in his hands. D'Artagnan moved to take some of them away before Athos dropped them and Athos let him take them gratefully. "So what are you doing here?"

"Aramis was going to take me with him to shop for Porthos' coming birthday when he got your text. He told me to wait here and tell you he'll be coming for the file shortly."

Athos shook his head. "He was supposed to take the file with him when he left earlier. He probably sent you here deliberately so I wouldn't be pissed at him."

The older man kept down the rest of the files he was holing, expecting a smart comment from the teenager. He turned towards him when none was offered and frowned. The kid had a paper clutched in his hands, his face a deathly white, his whole body trembling.

"D'Art?" Athos tried softly, not knowing what was wrong.

The boy in question turned to him, his wild dark eyes brimming with tears. It was _that_ look, the one Athos hated, the one that was usually followed by a panic attack.

He immediately crossed the distance between them, grabbing the boy by the arms, hating himself when the boy flinched at the contact, and guiding him to sit on the couch. He knelt in front of him but did not let go of his grip.

"D'Art, talk to me. What's wrong?" the soft voice seemed to have broken through the fog in d'Artagnan's mind because the young boy suddenly sobbed.

"Thos, this picture… where did you find it?"

Athos looked at the picture. It was that of a silver pendant on a long chain kept on a table haphazardly before being photographed. It had been part of the evidence in the Gaudet case, they had managed to get the bastard for two murder counts along with another attempted one. He would be in prison for a long long time.

"It's an item in evidence. What is it to you?" Athos asked, confused by what about the picture was so special.

"The necklace is made of silver, it opens to a picture of an oak on one side and the inscribed words 'Forever, my love' on the other." D'Artagnan's breath hitched and another silent sob shook through his body. "It belonged to my father."

Athos looked at the broken look on d'Artagnan's face and pulled the hurting boy into his arms. He wished he could shield the young kid away from all the evils of the world just by holding him and never letting go of him. But he had already seen so much, suffered through the horror of watching his father being murdered and losing his home, that Athos knew nothing would erase the haunted look from the boy's eyes completely.

That didn't mean Athos wasn't allowed to try and he hugged him fiercely, letting him bury his face in the crook of the older man's neck as one after the other sobs shook through his thin frame and he breathed in loud gasps. Tears came to Athos' eyes at his complete uselessness as he wished fervently that he could perform some miracle and go back in time and kill that bastard who had hurt the young boy in so many everlasting ways.

They sat like that for a while, Athos rubbing circles on d'Artagnan's back, the young boy clutching at him as if Athos was the only thing holding him back from doing something drastic. It was only when Athos felt the sobs subside, when d'Artagnan had loosened his grip a bit, that Athos asked, "Alright, son?"

The kid sniffed but shook his head and Athos pulled back slightly to look at the tear stained face. D'Artagnan did not meet his eyes though and Athos tilted his chin towards himself with a hand until he did.

"The man whom that necklace was found upon was found guilty three days ago on two separate counts of murder. He'll be behind bars for thirty five years."

D'Artagnan looked at him and tried to smile. He settled for a nod instead. "That's… good."

Athos sighed and cupped his cheek. "I know it doesn't bring your father back. I wish there was more that I can do for you, but… God, I wish I can change what happened."

The anguish in his voice had d'Artagnan placing his hand on top of Athos'. "Thank you," he whispered quietly. "You do more than I can ever thank you enough for, and I'm grateful."

Athos shook his head, wiping away a tear which was trailing down d'Artagnan's cheek with the pad of his thumb. "You don't have to thank me son. Not now, not _ever_," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

D'Artagnan had to look away, throat getting too clogged up to speak. Athos too let go of his face, handing him a tissue. "You don't have to go with Aramis you know, if you don't feel up to it. I'll talk to him, he won't mind."

D'Artagnan looked up at the older man and smiled. "No, no it's okay. Trudging behind Aramis as he hops from shop to shop flirting with every man or woman that looks at him, though probably not my most favorite past time, will probably take my mind off stuff."

Athos grinned, "Hopping. That's a good one."

D'Artagnan grinned too but was prevented from replying when the door opened and a panting Aramis came in. D'Artagnan caught sight of a very frightened looking secretary peering over the former's shoulder trying to deduce the level of Athos' anger before the door closed. Athos looked at d'Artagnan who shook his head slightly.

He turned towards Aramis who was taking off his rather large hat. Why the man was wearing it in mid-February, indoors, he didn't know. "Mr. Skilter has called three times to find out where the files I promised would be at his desk this morning were."

Aramis looked contritely at Athos. "I'm sorry I got dragged off by Fostner. I'll take the files now."

Athos shook his head, too emotionally spent to actually be angry. He simply picked up the file from his desk and handed it to Aramis before turning to the boy who was getting up. He walked over and put a hand on his shoulder, speaking softly. "Are you sure you are up for this?"

D'Artagnan nodded and tried to give him a reassuring smile. Not quite satisfied, but not wanting to impose upon the plans the two had made, Athos let go and stepped back. He looked at Aramis. "Don't stay out too late. He has already had a full day at school and needs his rest."

"Yes, dad." Aramis rolled his eyes and d'Artagnan grinned. "Come along d'Art. Let's go have some fun!"

Athos smiled as he watched his friend drag d'Artagnan out, the two talking in low tones all the while, before he sobered up.

He needed to have a talk with Treville.

"Earth to d'Artagnan." Aramis waved a hand in front of the boy's face bringing him back from wherever his thoughts had taken him. He blinked and looked around, noticing the man had stopped.

"Uh, where are we?" d'Artagnan asked, looking around. They had been walking around in the mall, looking for the perfect thing to buy for Porthos. Or not. D'Artagnan had a sinking feeling when he realized they had stopped in front of an accessories shop which did not look like it catered to guys.

"Aramis, I'm not sure Porthos is into this kind of stuff." D'Artagnan smirked when Aramis rolled his eyes.

"Very funny." Aramis' tone suggested it really wasn't. Then a thoughtful look came on his face, "I wonder though, he wouldn't look out of place in a dress…"

"So why are we here?" d'Artagnan asked to stop the older man from launching into a detailed description of another one of his fantasies or experiences. D'Artagnan hadn't been able to look either of the two in the eye after he had been subjected to an impromptu lesson about the numerous and varied uses of chocolate syrup, while shopping for groceries with the man.

He did not want a repeat of that ordeal. Ever.

"We are here to get you to get your lady friend something nice which says, 'Hey, I'm a friend who really really likes you." Aramis stated, like as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.

D'Artagnan narrowed his eyes. "And why would I do that?"

Aramis looked slightly alarmed, "See when a boy meets a girl, or a boy for that matter, and he gets a funny feeling in his stomach, it means he likes her or him – Ow! What was that for?"

D'Artagnan grinned at the man who was rubbing his arm where he had just punch him. "That was for trying to give me the bird and bees talk." The grin on his face disappeared. "Once you have lived on the streets, trying to stay warm at night to have a Land Cruiser pull up on the road in front of you and told by a man to get in and earn some quick money, you have to learn to grow up fast."

Aramis stared at him, aghast, and d'Artagnan looked away. He put a finger below the boy's chin and raised it so that he was looking at him. "D'Art, you…"

"I ran," d'Artagnan said, before the man could form the question. "I ran fast and hard and did not look back."

Aramis nodded, letting go and taking a step back. "Alright, I'm sorry for bringing that up for you. But please, you have to get Constance something for Valentine's. It just won't do to leave her hanging and let this chance go."

"Seriously?" d'Artagnan asked, an eyebrow raised. "This whole thing was a ploy to get me to buy something for Constance? What about Porthos birthday and his gift?"

Aramis took his eyebrow and started leading him inside. "Porthos is a man of few material needs. He does not require a set of cuff links or a tie to make him happy. If you must know, I have a trip planned to the outskirts of Paris which includes hiking and swimming as well as a nice cozy bread and breakfast."

"But I did want to give him something," d'Artagnan said, frowning.

Aramis waved a hand, dismissively. "Don't worry, you'll think of something. Just keep in mind that Porthos would appreciate something small and personal rather than something big and expensive." He stopped walking at a junction between the aisles. "Now, what kind of girl is this Constance of yours?"

"God, will you stop calling her mine?" d'Artagnan groaned. "She isn't, and that just rubs it in."

Aramis sighed and cuffed him on the head lightly. "No more of that defeatist talk lad. We are here to rectify that aren't we?"

D'Artagnan thought about the girl. He didn't think she would be one for nail polish and pink bags and dresses. "She isn't exactly into all this stuff," he told Aramis. "She's more likely to karate chop a guy who's pestering her instead of pepper spraying him, if you get what I mean," he explained at Aramis' raised eyebrow.

Aramis chuckled. "She sounds lively."

D'Artagnan grinned, "You have no idea."

"Hmm, I think I know just the thing for her." Aramis said before dragging him out of the excessively pink shop, eliciting a sigh of relief from d'Artagnan.

Aramis led him into another shop, this one solely dedicated to key chains. He picked a rather large one in the shape of an ornately decorated high heeled sandal. It was a shiny metallic black, the heel taking up most of the space with small pretty stones on the front which caught the light.

"But I said that she isn't into this kind of…" d'Artagnan trailed off when Aramis pushed at a small hidden button on the inside of the sandal and the heel opened to reveal a whole set of miniature tools inside. There was a small knife, a tiny pair of scissors, a screw driver, a nail filer and even a lock pick among other things d'Artagnan couldn't really fathom the use of. D'Artagnan stared at it and Aramis grinned at the awed look on his face.

"This is perfect. She'll love this." D'Artagnan beamed at the older man who turned immediately to the clerk at the counter and started to pay for it. "Aramis, I'll pay for it, please."

Aramis turned towards him, "But I thought you were saving for Porthos' gift?"

D'Artagnan shook his head. "What you said gave me an idea. I won't say anything more, so you'll just have to wait and see," he winked at the older man and took out the wallet Athos had given him. The key chain did not cost as much as he had thought and he still had enough money left over to last him a week.

The pair walked out after Aramis had bought four key chains with tiny silver rapiers on them, complete with intricately carved pommels and elaborate knuckle guards, for each of them. "What's a gentleman without his sword?" Aramis had asked with a smirk and d'Artagnan had rolled his eyes.

The pair made their way back after stopping for coffee before braving the cold evening wind in getting to the parking lot and the car.

On arriving home, the pair was assaulted with lovely smells wafting from the kitchen. Athos came out to greet them, raising an eyebrow as he helped d'Artagnan out of his coat and scarf. D'Artagnan nodded to assure the man he was alright and they sat down to dinner, Porthos having joined them fresh from taking a shower.

It wasn't until later when Porthos and Aramis had retired to their rooms and d'Artagnan was helping Athos clean up the kitchen that the man took the cloth he was using to wipe down the counter from his hand and wordlessly put something in his palm.

"Treville agreed that this belongs to you."

D'Artagnan looked down to see the silver necklace in his hands and he gasped. He raised it slowly, running his fingers over the carved surface, feeling the familiar dents and curves and opened it reverently. Tears welled up in his eyes as he took in the picture of the oak tree and the inscription inside. 'Forever yours.' D'Artagnan's father had gifted the necklace to his mother, the message meant for her, and he hadn't parted from it for a single second after her death, keeping it around his neck the entire time. It had been as much a part of the man as his hands and feet and heart and as d'Artagnan clutched the necklace in his fist, he felt the gaping sense of loss that he always felt whenever he thought of his father's death, deep in his chest, ease a little.

He took a deep breath and looked at Athos silently, not knowing what exactly to say to convey to him how much this meant to him.

Athos had studied the emotions flitting on the boy's expressive face. There had been surprise at first, followed by grief and awe and then a satisfied contentment. But when the kid looked at him, Athos felt his heart skip a beat. There was a look of such utter and complete adoration and _love_ on his face that Athos had to stop himself from gulping nervously. He smiled at the boy who seemed to be struggling to figure out what to say.

"Don't thank me son. Just promise me you'll remember your parents for all that they taught you, and be happy you had them in your life for no matter how short a period, instead of being sad."

D'Artagnan nodded at the words and looked hesitant for a second before Athos found a very gangly teenager hugging him furiously. His arms came up automatically to hug back and he chuckled. D'Artagnan pulled back after a few seconds, and looked up at him from behind dark lashes which fell on his face. "Thank you." His voice was so full of raw gratitude that Athos found himself reaching out to brush the hair back from the boy's eyes and leaning over to kiss him lightly on the forehead. The kid blushed but smiled at him happily before looking alarmed.

"You talked to your boss about this right? I mean you won't get into trouble or anything?"

Athos smiled at his concern, "No, I snuck inside the evidence lockup and disabled the camera. Then I ninja chopped the security guards and smuggled the necklace out, wiping everyone's memory just to be on the safe side."

D'Artagnan rolled his eyes but raised an eyebrow.

"I talked to Treville. He agreed that one single missing necklace isn't going to have any effect on any case. It's okay." Athos paused remembering something. "You didn't mention by the way, that you've met the guy."

D'Artagnan's eyes widened, "More like bumped into him and caused all his papers to go flying. He's scary."

He couldn't help it. The matter of fact way that the kid said that was just priceless. Athos threw his head back and laughed. D'Artagnan looked at him pretending to be indignant. "What? He is!"

Athos sobered up though he couldn't help the grin which stretched on his face. "That's true. He is. But he is also a very fair and honorable man. After Porthos and Aramis he is the only man whom I would trust with you."

D'Artagnan nodded and stifled a yawn.

Athos grinned, "Looks like our little puppy is tired. Come on let's get you to bed, I'll finish up here." He shook his head at the boy who was about to protest and d'Artagnan closed his mouth. "Go on, you've had a tiring day."

D'Artagnan nodded and with a last look at the necklace in his hands he wished him a good night and went off to his bedroom. Athos watched the kid go, surprised by how much having him in his life had changed him. He hadn't thought he would ever feel the wounds that his brother's death had dealt him heal, but he was beginning to discover that he could actually remember Tom now without feeling guilty or bitter. Tom would have wanted him to go on with his life, not like he had been doing before he had met d'Artagnan, but like this, happy and satisfied.

Athos smiled and raised the glass of wine he had poured for himself in the air. "For you, little brother."

* * *

**A/N:** _My lovely, lovely readers. You are the best thing in my life right now. But I am afraid I will have to take leave of you for now. There will be no more posts for a while. I had a severe panic attack this morning when I realized how very close my exams are and how equally unprepared I am. I'm going to dedicate every second of every remaining day I have to studying and there will be no more writing/reading or watching The Musketeers until after June. _  
_To my old readers, I hope you forgive my sudden disappearance. Rest assured, the story WILL be continued, I'm just putting it on hold right now. I hope to see you all when I get back to writing again. There have been lovely people, people like Holly and See Me As I Am and fariedragon and The Forgotten Nobody and that guest I don't have a name for but who is amazing in their reviews. And I can't name everyone but even if I haven't thanked you personally know that you have my complete gratitude for brightening up my mornings. _  
_And of course there is my Musketeer sibling, Raouldehadleyfraser whom I totally love for their complete support. I'll miss our ranting PMs darling. I hope you get that story written. It'll be one of the first things I look for when I return. _

_To my new readers, I'm not usually such an abhorrent writer of long author notes. It's just painful. I'm sorry for leaving you hanging. Put me in your story alert list and I swear you'll get an email on the 26th of June. On my honor. _

_Thank you once again. I'll miss you all, but most of all I'll miss my boys. :')_


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